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THE STORY OF A STYLE 



THE STORY 
OF A STYLE 



BY 

WILLIAM BAYARD HALE 

Author of 
Woodrow Wilson: The Story of His Life 




Ik yap tmv Xoyaiv crov SiKcuw^crfl 
Kai ac Tuiv \oya)v (tov KaTa8iKa<rdr]crr] 



New York B. W. HUEBSCH, Inc. Mcmxx 



COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY B. W. HUEBSCH, Inc. 

All rights reserved, including that of translation 

into foreign languages, including 

the Scandinavian. 



rs 







PRINTED IN TFE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



MAR |9 i 
§>C!,A608737 



FOREWORD 

This book was written before President Wilson 
fell sick. 

Originally a chapter of a volume, not yet pub- 
lished, on a related subject, it was in this form fin- 
ished in the year 191 8, and laid aside while the rest 
of the work went on. In May, 19 19, the author 
read this chapter in a circle of friends, who advised 
that it be expanded into a separate book and forti- 
fied with copious quotations. The advice was fol- 
lowed, and the expanded text was ready on Sep- 
tember first. 

Except as to the chapter printed at the end. The 
President was then about to start on his speaking 
tour, and it seemed only right to postpone the book 
in order to avail of any additional insight that might 
be gained from Mr. Wilson's latest utterances. The 
comments on the September speeches were written 
from day to day during the tour. It is the fact that 
the book was complete on September 26th, 19 19. 

The circumstances that developed after the aband- 
onment of the President's tour rendered it impos- 
sible to put into immediate print a study like this. 
It has therefore been withheld until now when the 
President's physician reports his happy recovery of 
strength, and when, also, political developments have 
made impossible any suspicion that the book has 



other than a purely literary and psychological pur- 
pose. Such slight revision as meanwhile has been 
given the text has been in the direction of restraint. 

Wm. Bayard Hale. 
362 Riverside Drive, New York, 
July, 1920. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Prophetic Symptoms i 

II Aristocratic Affectations 24 

III Learned Addictions 81 

IV Symbolism 126 

V Phonetic Phenomena 161 

VI Doubt and the Flight from the Fact . 188 

VII A Typical Manuscript 229 

VIII Concerning Popular Repute .... 242 

IX The Story of the League of Nations 

Speeches 257 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

A PLEASANT adventure is before us. We 
are bent upon an excursion among the words 
of a famous writer. They are words that 
have been universally acclaimed of a singular excel- 
lence — our expedition is into a region of vast and 
happy renown. Yet, strangely enough, this region 
has never been explored. In broad outline, its char- 
acter is thought to be known; a few tall landmarks 
have even become familiar. But it remains a fabled 
land, avowed to be delectable beyond the ordinary 
in scenery and atmosphere, its native charm enhanced 
by noble thoughts and haunted by grace and beauty. 
Yet, beckoned by its putative marvels, allured by its 
promises of verbal riches, we (you and I, my com- 
rades in this slight enterprise) shall be the first to 
explore it. 

Happen we may meet with surprises. 

i 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Mr. Woodrow Wilson is a man of words. 

It is an interesting fact that it should be desirable, 
if not necessary, to explain that this statement is ut- 
tered in a sense not in the slightest degree derogatory. 
Why should the first instinct be to hold it against one 
that it should be said of him that he is a man of 
words? — as if the implication were: " of words — 
not of deeds." The testimony of this fact is that 
a common suspicion lies against too constant exercise 
of speech, as if speech might exhaust itself without 
passing into action; as if, indeed, it were the antithe- 
sis of action. It need not do so, it need not be such; 
the master of thought and expression is a director of 
action. His acts are not those alone which he in 
person performs; they include also the vast array of 
deeds done by the multitudes whom he has inspired. 

At this juncture, certainly, in this little book, no 
other suggestion is intended than the simple, factual, 
colorless one that Mr. Wilson deals in words, spends 
his time, his life, with words; is what he is, and does 
what he does, by the instrumentality of words. 
What he has accomplished — and his has been a 
wonderful record of accomplishment — has been ac- 
complished through statement, argument, appeal. 
His scepter is his — pen ; his sword is his — tongue ; 
his realm is that of — Words. 

Therefore it ought to be, it infallibly will be, in 
his language that Mr. Wilson's real self will be re- 

2 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

vealed. If his character is to be studied, if an as- 
sessment of the quality and scope of his mentality 
is to be reached, if search is to be made for the secret 
of the hiding of his power, the investigator must go 
to Mr. Wilson's writings and the records of his 
speeches. Thither are we bound, primarily for the 
pleasure of travel and quest, yet not without hope of 
bringing back a report of value to those more serious 
people, the psychologists and the historians. 



Mr. Wilson has been writing for half a century. 
He learned the alphabet only when he was nine years 
old, 1 but before he was fifteen he was engaged upon 
a romance which, no doubt to the infinite loss of Eng- 
lish literature, still exists only in the single copy of its 
original faded penciled pages. I am acquainted 
with the contents of this earliest Wilson manuscript, 
and am able to certify to the precocity in romance of 
its juvenile author. 

In 1876, T. W. Wilson began contributing to a 
college paper. Some of his contributions were in 
verse. He early adopted a poetic style modeled 
after the limerick. One of his efforts as the 
conductor of a column called " Here and There " 
ran thus: 

1 fVoodrow Wilson, The Story of His Life, p. 37. 



\y 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" ' I will work out a rhyme 
If I only have time,* 

Said the man of ' Here and There.' 
So he tried for a while; 
Result — a loose pile 

Of his beautiful golden hair.' " 

In 1879, an undergraduate twenty-two years old, 
Mr. Wilson accomplished the feat of securing pub- 
lication in a magazine of the highest class. Cabinet 
Government in the United States by Thomas W. 
Wilson, in The International Review, of August, 
1879, was a treatise in brief of which a publicist of 
elder years and far richer experience need not have 
been ashamed. It was an argument for the recon- 
struction of the American Congress and Cabinet to 
conform to the English Parliamentary plan; it im- 
peached our national legislature as " practically irre- 
sponsible," especially denouncing the Congressional 
committee system, under which all the important 
work of Congress is done in secret session by a few 
members. Secrecy, argued this twenty-two-year-old 
statesman, in 1879, forty years before the Congress 
of Versailles, is the atmosphere in which all corrup- 
tion and evil flourishes. " Congress should legislate 
as if in the presence of the whole country, in open and 
free debate." 

At the outset it must be insisted upon, in all good 
faith, that this is an examination of Mr. Wilson's 

4 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

literary style, and that it interests itself in his politi- 
cal opinions not at all, and in his political declara- 
tions only as they throw light upon the operations of 
his faculty of expression. Not infrequently, com- 
ment may be directed towards what are apparently 
political inconsistencies. These all are doubtless 
capable of explanation and satisfactory resolution. 
As for their purport, they lie outside the province 
of this discussion. It concerns itself sedulously with 
expressional phenomena. 

Thomas W. Wilson's first magazine article con- 
tained probably no passages more important than 
these: 

" Nothing could be more obvious than the fact that the 
very life of free, popular institutions is dependent upon their 
breathing the bracing air of thorough, exhaustive and open 
discussion. 

" We are thus again brought into the presence of the 
cardinal fact of this discussion — that debate is the essential 
function of a popular representative body. In the severe, dis- 
tinct, and sharp enunciation of underlying principles, the 
unsparing examination and telling criticism of opposite posi- 
tions, the careful painstaking unraveling of all the issues in- 
volved, which are incident to the free discussion of ques- 
tions of public policy, we see the best, the only effective 
means of educating public opinion." 

The immediate impression given by the first read- 

5 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

ing of an article in this style is that the author pos- 
sesses the quality commonly and admiringly described 
as an unusual command of language. Few college 
boys, is the reflection, would write like that. 

Since this is the writing of a college boy, and not 
of a President, we can examine it without prejudice. 
The selection was not made with a view to verbal 
examination, and, on that account, all the more de- 
serves it. 

A second reading can hardly fail to recognize a 
curious disproportion in the parts of speech em- 
ployed. Here are 108 words, in three sentences. 
Only one word in the hundred is a pure verb. It is 
true we have the substantives " be," " is," " are," 
and the auxiliary " could," and the participle 
" brought " ; but the sole statement of action is that 
" we see." 

To keep this scanty company in countenance, there 
are, however, thirty adjectives. Shall we be mathe- 
matical and notice that one word in every three-and- 
three-fifths words is an adjective? 

Here is an interesting list : 

PURE VERB9 ADJECTIVES 

see more 

very 
free 
popular 
dependent 

6 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 



IMPURE VERBS 


ADJECTIVES 


could be 


bracing 


is 


thorough 


are brought 


exhaustive 


is 


open 


are 


cardinal 




this 




essential 




popular 




representative 




severe 




distinct 




sharp 




underlying 




unsparing 




telling 




opposite 




care jul 




Painstaking 




incident 




free 




public 




best 




only 




effective 




public 



Somewhat surprised by the result of the count, 
and desiring to check it against an examination of the 

7 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

style of other masters of English prose, I take down 
a random volume of Macaulay; it happens to be 
Vol. V of his History of England, and it happens to 
open at pages 116-117. I count out 108 words at 
the top of page 117 and proceed to ascertain how 
many verbs and adjectives are among them. There 
are eleven verbs and two adjectives. 

Interested, I take down a volume of Ruskin {Fors 
Clavigera) ; one by Carlyle {Sartor Resartus) ; one 
by Stevenson {Treasure Island) ; I take down King 
Richard II, Tom Sawyer, Knickerbocker's History 
of New York, The Gold Bug, Quentin Durward, 
David Copperfield, The Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire, The Mayor of Casterhridge, 
Richard Yea and Nay, Bernard Shaw's The Philan- 
derer; I go on and take down books by French, 
Polish, Belgian, Swiss and other writers : La Char- 
treuse de Parme, Quo Vadis, Ulsolee, La Vie des 
Abeilles, Rousseau's Confessions, Amiel's Journal 
In time. 

A count of the pure verbs (exclusive of sub- 
stantives, auxiliaries, infinitives and participles) and 
adjectives among the first one hundred eight words 
on page 117 of each volume yields the results here 

tabulated: 

Verbs Adjec- 

tives 

Wilson I 30 

Ruskin 16 7 

8 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

Verbs Adjec- 
tives 

Carlyle . . . . 12 4 

Macaulay n 2 

Stevenson 14 3 

Irving 12 8 

Poe 12 5 

Shakespeare 14 9 

Scott 11 8 

Dickens 16 6 

Hardy 14 1 

Shaw <. 14 4 

Clemens 13 3 

Hewlett 13 3 

Gibbon , 9 8 

Bazin 18 3 

Sienkiewicz 11 I 

Stendhal 15 2 

Maeterlinck 10 None 

Rousseau 14 6 

Amiel 9 7 

These twenty writers employed, on the average, 
among a hundred words, some thirteen pure verbs 
and four and a half adjectives. The writer of 
Cabinet Government in the United States found need 
for only one pure verb and five impure verbs, but, in 
the meanwhile, invoked the aid of thirty adjectives. 

It is with a true instinct that language calls the 
part of speech which represents action, " the verb " 

9 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

— the word. The task of speech is to predicate, not 
to paint. The advance of thought is just so swift 
as the verbs carry it. Adjectives qualify, describe, 
limit. They are a brake, a drag, on the wheel — 
often necessary in order that advance may be kept in 
the right track — but not near so often necessary as 
they are commonly and lazily deemed to be. They 
are popular, because easy; they eke out effortless 
poverty of idea. The man who has something to tell 
has little need, little time, for them; he snaps out his 
tale in words of action. The thought that pants for 
deliverance bursts out in verbs. A very little study 
will show that the world's great story-tellers and 
thinkers have generally written in action-words, not 
quality-words; some by instinct, some on principle 
(as Stevenson, for one, confesses) eschewing mention 
of all but most necessary attributes. The artist in 
language suspects an approaching adjective as he 
would suspect a possible rogue at the door. 



If now we proceed to scrutinize the array of ad- 
jectives in the quoted passage, several interesting cir- 
cumstances invite our attention: 

The qualities occur often intensified, in couplets, 
or in triplets: 

more obvious thorough, exhaustive and 

free, popular open 

IO 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

popular, representative severe, distinct and sharp 

careful, painstaking best and only effective 

This piling up of connected adjectives accentuates 
the question whether all are necessary. What is 
added to the thought by sticking in " careful " before 
" painstaking "? What kind of painstaking would 
not be careful? " Exhaustive and open discussion " 
would have been complete; why expend another 
breath to make it " thorough, exhaustive and open "? 
What additional idea is conveyed by the middle mem- 
ber of the phrase " severe, distinct and sharp"? 
" Tautology," says the first dictionary I open, " is 
repetition without addition of force or clearness, and 
is disguised by a change of wording." 

While the instances just noticed are clear pleo- 
nasms, there are in the passage several other ad- 
jectives which fall under rather more than the gen- 
eral suspicion which lies against the race: " free, 
popular institutions," " popular, representative 
body," " free discussion," " public policy," " public 
opinion," as phrases in so brief an excerpt, seem 
somewhat overburdening. That the air should be 
" bracing " is doubtless well enough, though not 
necessary. Criticism need not have been " telling 
criticism," and examination need not have been 
" unsparing examination." 

The list reveals a striking predilection not only for 
unnecessary qualifications in general, but for in- 

ii 






THE STORY OF A STYLE 

tensifkations, superlatives and absolutes. Mr. Wil- 
son writes of " the very life " — not the life — but 
the very life; he speaks not merely of the issues in- 
volved, but of " all the issues involved." The simple 
fact is not to be trusted to tell its own due story; it 
must be intensified so as to be as unmistakably abso- 
lute in the rnind of the reader as it is in that of the 
writer. He speaks of " underlying principles," as 
if all principles were not underlying. He wishes to 
write of different positions, and he represents them as 
" opposite positions." He thinks of one of the func- 
tions of debate, and instantly it becomes " the essen- 
tial function," and " the cardinal fact," and a fact 
of such majesty that we are somewhat solemnly 
" brought into the presence of " it. 

Our author clearly is no Quaker, with a conscience 
opposed to superfluity. He has not early been 
taught to "speak within bounds"; the injunction, 
" Let your communications be Yea, yea, and Nay, 
nay," and the fear of the Day of Judgment when men 
shall render an account for every idle word, have 
never been impressed upon him; and whatever vir- 
tues his writing displays are not those of moderation 
and restraint. 

I once read to Theodore Roosevelt some pages of 
the Journal of the Quaker, John Woolman, a classic 
illustration of the force of reserve, deliberate under- 
statement and studied anti-climax. Frugal of word 

12 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

and burdened with thought, unacquainted with the 
supererogatory, and a stranger to the superlative, 
gravely declining to glance at a graceful attribute, 
unresponsive (as to his countenance, whether or not 
in his heart) to the bright eye of a passing conceit, 
John Woolman, with his decent and undeviating reti- 
cence, his gentle austerity, is indeed a man apart, in 
the degree of his control of the verities of language. 
What I tried to prove to Mr. Roosevelt was the sur- 
prisingly moving quality of the style of this prophet 
of the plain people, in its utterances purposeful as a 
gray man-of-war pushing towards its goal, eloquent 
as a Chrysostom in its golden silences. 

(John Woolman could never have written the 
above very pretty sentence — which, of course, 
flouts the virtue it lauds and exemplifies the vice it 
reprobates.) 

The Apostle of the Strenuous Life proclaimed his 
instant admiration for the quietistic philosopher and 
stingy stylist. He soon afterward put W oolman* s 
Journal high up in a list of " best books " which he 
prepared for the edification of youth. So far as I 
noticed, however, Theodore Roosevelt did not 
thenceforward take the Quaker's style for a para- 
digm. 

Would, perhaps, Thomas Woodrow Wilson have 
profited if in youth he had fallen under its influence, 
or under some similar influence? 

13 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

What influence did affect him? He is accustomed 
to refer to himself as of Scottish ancestry, and to 
claim a kinship of spirit with the scrupulous and the 
taciturn. Which is only natural, seeing that the 
Wilsons were Irish and left him the Irish gift of 
imagination and loquacity. He told his biographer 1 
that at college his favorite among writers had been 
Burke; he was accustomed to spend hours memoriz- 
ing and declaiming that Celtic orator's fervid periods. 
Whether Mr. Wilson's class-mates recognized his 
talent for copious eloquence rather than for clear 
thought is here of no consequence, and it is sincerely 
hoped, in the interest of the unprejudiced unfolding 
of the argument, that the conscientious reader will 
not at this juncture turn to page 160 and read the 
quotation there. 



It would be insincere, even at this early stage of 
the investigation, to pretend ignorance of the widely- 
noticed fact that Mr. Wilson is addicted to certain 
favorite locutions. Since a witty after-dinner 
speaker described the President as being on the At- 
lantic steaming at the rate of thirty May-I-knots an 
hour, attention has frequently been drawn to this 
peculiarity and to a few such others as the Wilsonian 
aptness at seeing " visions " and hearing " voices." 

1 fVoodroiv Wilson: The Story of His Life, pp. 67, 68. 

14 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

The passage under examination contains at least 
three phrases which abound in practically every later 
production by this writer. The employment of the 
pedantic preface such as introduces two of the three 
sentences which we are examining, became a fixed 
habit, and these two particular prefaces (" Nothing 
could be more obvious than that — " ; and " We are 
thus brought into presence of the fact that — ") re- 
mained in continuous use, alternating with such vari- 
ants as " I take the liberty of saying that," " I ven- 
ture to believe that," u May we not take leave to 
believe that," " One is with whatever reluctance con- 
strained to conclude that," and the like. 

' Breathing the bracing air " marks the first of 
many occasions on which we shall find things of all 
descriptions and people of all degree breathing the 
bracing, or the invigorating, or the free, the clear, 
the calm, the refreshing and renewing, or some other 
variety, of air. To describe inanimate things as 
" breathing," is, we shall find, one of Mr. Wilson's 
favorite methods of personification — a habit the 
testimony of which we shall have to ask. 

It may be argued that when phrases become habit- 
ual, they lose their significance. The truth is they 
grow doubly significant. If we find that a certain set 
of phrases has become habitual with a writer, we are 
shown that the mental attitude or habit which they 
reveal has come in a noticeable degree to dominate 

15 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

his intellect. If the mental habits are good ones, 
the thoughts noble ones, there is no reason why they 
should not dominate the mind; no reason why they 
should not be practiced and repeated throughout a 
life-time. Even so, the mind possessed of great and 
enduring thoughts will continually seek, and easily 
find, new, fresh and more adequate modes of expres- 
sion for them. But if we were to discover the men- 
tal habits to be those of inaccuracy, exaggeration and 
indolence, and the idiom a mere patter of pedantic 
phrases, unaltered and unimproved at the end of 
forty years, we should confront a phenomenon re- 
quiring consideration. 



The introductory phrase, " Nothing could be more 
obvious than," is instantly suspicious to the critical 
mind. Here we have the statement that there is 
nothing in the universe more axiomatic than the fact 
which is about to be adduced. 

Now, there are numerous facts in the universe. 
" The world is so full of a number of things." 
Many of these things are fairly obvious to ordinary 
intellects ; some entirely so. But if one of these facts 
is obvious, it would seem to be unnecessary to do 
more than simply to cite it, casually, albeit confi- 
dently. Unnecessary to state that it is obvious, be- 
cause, if it be, the reader must already have recog- 

16 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

nized its truth, as well as the indisputable character 
of its truth. And if it belongs among those very 
special things than which nothing could be more 
obvious, all the more is it unnecessary, all the more 
is it rather silly, to insist upon its axiomatic charac- 
ter. It can hardly seriously be alleged that nothing 
in the world is more obvious than that " the very life 
of free, popular institutions is dependent upon their 
breathing the bracing air of thorough, exhaustive and 
open discussion." To speak conservatively, there 
are many, probably many thousand, things more ob- 
vious than that. It is more obvious, merely for ex- 
ample, that twice two is four. But what should we 
be moved to think of an author who deemed it neces- 
sary to write : " Nothing could be more obvious 
than the fact that two times two is four "; and then 
go on to announce : " We are thus brought into the 
presence of the cardinal fact of this discussion — 
that it is the essential nature of twice two to be 
four " ! 

Upon the ears of any one at all acquainted with 
Mr. Wilson's later writings, the phrase, " nothing 
could be more obvious," must fall as peculiarly 
familiar. The young gentleman to whom already in 
1879 a casual idea must seem not only obvious, but 
the most obvious thing in the world, never lost his 
early power of instinctively recognizing the axiomatic 
quality of his own thoughts; and he early began to 

17 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

indulge impatience with those who did not likewise 
instantly discern what to his mind was so plain. We 
shall find him constantly asserting of all sorts of 
things, even the most contradictory, that they are 
perfectly obvious. In August, 1879, it was the 
necessity of thorough, exhaustive, open discussion, 
unsparing examination and debate. In August, 
19 19, we find President Wilson telling the assembled 
senators of the Committee on Foreign Relations, in 
reply to the request for information concerning the 
writing of the Peace Treaty, that " nothing could be 
more obvious than that matters of this sort should 
not be given publicity." 

It would be easy, of course, to convict this incon- 
sistency on moral grounds. That is not the intention 
of this treatise ; nor, indeed, would such a conviction 
be just, if the theory of this book is sound. At all 
events, we shall not so easily and cheaply dispose of 
the matter without a little deeper investigation. 

It is possible that many things, and indeed almost 
all things, even contradictory things, do really pre- 
sent themselves to Mr. Wilson's mind as self-evident. 
It may be that the laborious way of reason and proof 
are not for him. Intuition suffices. His perception 
jumps at once to the truth, unconscious of the ordi- 
nary necessity of logical advance. It may be that 
when truth is thus attained by him, it seems utterly 
beyond conceivable dispute — any truth that is in his 

18 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

mind, so long as it is in his mind. We are surely all 
acquainted with men who hold the beliefs they hold 
to be the most important and the most indisputable 
beliefs it is possible to hold — men who see every- 
thing big, and everything certain; to whose warm 
apprehension nothing appeals otherwise than as su- 
perlative and absolute. Everything stands on its 
tip-toes when Mr. Wilson approaches it. " We are 
now brought into the presence of the cardinal fact 
. . . the essential function." 



But if the meaning of these phrases be disregarded, 
and they be taken less seriously as mere ornamental 
prefaces, there is born the question — entirely color- 
less as to the article of disparagement or praise — 
why does the author resort to time-consuming locu- 
tions introductory to the projection of new ideas? 
The answer may be that he resorts to them either 

because his own cerebration is sluggish; or, though 
active, is repressed by internal conflict; or 

because he understands that allowance must be 
made for the incapacity of the people for following 
any rapid advance of thought; or 

because of more subtle recommendations, con- 
nected with the necessity which lies upon an oracle of 
leisure class culture to put into evidence his familiar- 
ity with studied phrases, economically wasteful, and 

19 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

therefore distinguished, testifying to the fact that 
the author has spent years in ornamental, non-pro- 
ductive studies, and has acquired the honorable habit 
of squandering his own time, and requiring that read- 
ers squander theirs, in the penning and the perusal 
of circumlocutions conceived as embroidering plain 
statements with the galloon of an antique grace. 

The explanation may find itself in any of these con- 
siderations, or in some combination of any two or of 
all of them, each in its own proportion. 

For the present let us content ourselves with a 
practical summary of our investigation of an example 
of Mr. Wilson's early writing. 

It is possible to strike out one-third of the words 
marshaled by the young gentleman's facile pen, toss 
another dozen out of the window, for good measure, 
and still leave the sense not only complete, but — 
who will deny? — more vigorously expressed. 
Thus : 

" The life of popular institutions depends upon 
their breathing the air of thorough open discussion. 
The cardinal point of this article is: debate is a 
prime function of a representative body. In the 
distinct enunciation of principles, the unsparing ex- 
amination of opposed positions, the careful unravel- 
ing of the issues involved, we see an effective means 
of educating public opinion." 

20 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

This paragraph contains fifty-nine words; Mr. 
Wilson's original contains one hundred eight. Is 
any thought, or nuance, missing? 



The author of this book is not the critic who died 
before completing his commentary on the Epistle to 
the Ephesians, having been detained thirteen years in 
writing five volumes on the iota subscript in the first 
verse of the first chapter. We shall get on. But 
it did seem desirable to expend a little pains inspect- 
ing a sample of Mr. Wilson's earliest published writ- 
ing — especially because in several particulars it 
furnishes a key to, and an explanation of, character- 
istics which mark all his work, down to this day. 

Mr. Wilson's first book, Congressional Govern- 
ment, was published in 1885 ; it was an expansion of 
his International Review essay and remains his most 
important contribution to political thought. Four 
years later it was followed by a school text-book, 
The State. Then there were some three or four 
volumes of essays, chiefly dealing with figures in 
British political history, partly written while in 
college. 

Then there came in 1896, a really important book, 
George Washington, into which the author threw the 
whole of his talents, his opinions and his enthusiasm. 

21 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

It was followed by A History of the American 
People, a pretentiously advertised work which was 
executed under difficult conditions and for which it 
would not be just to hold the anxious author to close 
account. Then was issued a volume of lectures, de- 
manding slight attention, Constitutional Government 
in the United States. The bibliography given in 
Who's Who includes, as of importance, the 19 13 
Princeton Baccalaureate Address, Free Life; and 
the volume The New Freedom. It is impossible to 
adduce The New Freedom into this examination, be- 
cause in his preface to this, his most famous work, 
Mr. Wilson generously ascribes the authorship to 
another. 

Aside from The New Freedom, the book which 
asserts itself as Mr. Wilson's most important pro- 
duction prior to that of his state papers is George 
Washington. That, first, and then them, we shall 
have to examine. 

It has been Mr. Wilson's fortune, good or bad, to 
escape criticism; first, because before his entrance 
upon a political career his writings had no very wide 
circulation; and, second, because he, nevertheless, 
entered the White House as the first reputed scholar 
who had occupied the Presidential chair; and was in 
the popular imagination endowed with all those de- 
lightful qualities of the habitant of the college clois- 
ter which the ordinary citizen feels it far beyond his 

22 



PROPHETIC SYMPTOMS 

abilities to challenge or for a moment to doubt. It 
has become an article of faith Quicunque vult salvus 
esse that Mr. Wilson is a master of English style. 
Which faith, except every one do keep it whole and 
undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlast- 
ingly. Nevertheless — 



23 



II 

ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

WE approach, therefore, Mr. Wilson's first 
fully typical book, — George Washing- 
ton. It has no other title. It does not, 
on its title-page, claim to be a biography. It refrains 
from designating itself " An Essay " ; it is not even 
11 An Interpretation." It is still less a " Foot-Note 
to History." It is just George Washington — by 
Woodrow Wilson. Yet a biography it is, beginning 
with a sketch of the hero's ancestors and conveying 
him from cradle to death-bed. It tells no single fact 
about him that was not already known. It exploits 
no new historic sources, and examines no well-known 
ones. It has little time for dates ; it refuses to annoy 
itself unduly with mere matters of fact. Does it 
then pretend to be a new and deeper analysis of the 
character of his country's Father ? It does not. Or 
a more direct and simple telling of the tale? Far 
from that. It wanders delightfully along with an 
entirely legendary story which affords the gifted 
author opportunity to indite what is probably the 

24 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

' most lovely language ever employed in a modern at- 
tempt at history. Humanly discerned and honestly 
described, Washington might have served for a rea- 
sonably interesting biography; but could never have 
afforded excuse for a piece of literature like this. 

A romantic rhapsody about a handsome ghost, 
" bravely appareled," " born a gentleman and a man 
of honor, 1 ' " a Virginia gentleman," " if you please," 
who struts through three hundred pages among a 
gallery of lay-figures in knee-breeches, wigs and ruffs, 
snuff and dignity, every one of whom was u bred " to 
honor or fashion, unless he happened to be " an 
honest yeoman" (vulgar, laborer), "prone" 
" shrewdly " to " take counsel " or " perchance " 
" for the nonce " to " give free leave to opinions " 
in a day " quick " with — I forget what. One 
"made shift" to do something or other; another 
"flouted" somebody or other; others were not 
" daunted a whit; " all of them were " generous," 
and " frank," and most of them " very frank." 
Those who did not possess " vision," in compensation 
had a " lofty mien." 

" Pride," " prestige," " honorable peccadilloes " 
crowd each other from paragraph to paragraph. 
Washington " fared forth " " very bravely dight in 
proper uniform " described in punctilious detail. 
His " haughty carriage " is noted repeatedly. 
When the Legislature failed to treat the youthful 

25 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

officer with consideration due " a Virginia gentleman 
of breeding," he resigned, because " it was no part of 
the tradition of his class to submit to degradation in 
rank." Fairfax, who dropped his title when he came 
to Virginia, Mr. Wilson, for the delectation of 
flunky readers, calls " his lordship " three times in 
ten lines (page $6) . 

Everything was " spacious " or, at least, " ample," 
likewise " gallant; " men were " too proud to fight " 
or u perchance to dissemble the while." Their 
frame houses were always " storied." Acres were 
always u broad." Their possessors " must needs 
work their plots of ground and devise a domestic 
economy without servants." Dr. Samuel Johnson 
once wrote a catechism. I read it as a youth. All 
that I remember is that, where the old catechism in 
reply to the question, " What did David do when he 
heard of his son Absolom's death?" says, "He 
washed himself and did eat," Dr. Johnson's cate- 
chism ran: " He performed his ablutions and par- 
took of refreshments." I think this classic page of 
learned cant is easily surpassed by: " The sturdy yeo- 
men must needs work their plots of ground and de- 
vise a domestic economy without servants." To any 
honest fool who knows anything about the condi- 
tions in which the poverty-stricken and illiterate Vir- 
ginia diggers of the soil a hundred and fifty years ago 
lived, an attempt like this to surround them with ro- 

26 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

mance is highly diverting. Perhaps it was intended 
to be. 

Mr. Wilson's language flows on in careful accord- 
ance with the schedule. The Puritan is always 
11 hardy." The immigrants are always " out of 
England." They always prosper " shrewdly." 
The " breed of noble public men " " touched " with 
11 simplicity " or " consideration " or " dignity " or 
what not, " had leave " " in their independence, to be 
themselves." If they left their shanties, it was be- 
cause they liked to be " quit of the house and free 
of the genial air." A frontier cabin is a u rough 
rural barony." Success in an Indian fight is a 
" largesse of good fortune." When Washington 
went West to stake out land, he " turned away for a 
space from the troublous affairs of politics." When 
Hamilton did what the President wanted, " his 
measures jumped with Washington's purpose." 

George's brother did not die of tuberculosis; " a 
fatal consumption fastened upon him." Anne Fair- 
fax was " daughter to," not of, her father. The 
Fairfax settlement was " within the Blue Ridge." 
Nobody stayed; they " tarried." Nothing looked 
like something; it "showed for" something. A 
habit or quality did not reveal something; it " dis- 
covered " something. 

More than a hundred sentences begin with 

Tis," " Twas," or " 'Twould." 

27 



(( 1 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

The Hudson is "Hudson's River;" Barbadoes, 
with equal impressiveness and inaccuracy, " the Bar- 
badoes." " Gentry " are " fain to believe " " with- 
al " " not a whit " more than " was their wont," and 
" for the rest " — whatever you like that is gallant 
and ruffled and peruqued and gives out a scent of an 
age concerning which we can pretend and romance. 

What we are getting in all this is evidence of a 
mind detached from contemplation of the fact, too 
often indifferent to the compelling charm or the cate- 
gorical necessity of truth, too much engrossed in the 
idle assembling of conventional locutions designed to 
throw a spell of pseudo-romance around the subject. 

Very well, if the reader has his doubts, he shall be 
given chapter and verse, to his heart's content. 

First, consider a few samples of the book's espe- 
cially pompous phrases. It appears, for instance, 
that nobody should be so many years old; he should 
be " turned of " so many years; and it is desirable to 
refer to ages whenever there is any possible excuse, 
in order to introduce this impressive locution. 
Thus: 

(Lawrence Washington) "had not returned home out of 
England until he was turned of twenty-one and he had been 
back scarce a twelve-month "... (p. 47.) 

28 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

(William Fairfax) "was now, when turned of 

fifty ..." (p. 49-) 

(George Washington) "was but just turned of twenty." 

(p. 59.) 

(George Washington) " was but just turned of twenty; " 
(p. 101J 

•'. . . this hero not yet turned of fifty." (p. 216.) 
" John Marshall, just turned of twenty eight — " (p. 235.) 
(Hamilton) "a man just two months turned of thirty- 
three." (p. 287.) 

This may, of course, be regarded as fine writing, 
or as a deliberate affectation; or as a clinic obsession, 
to be sympathetically examined. But some sort of 
judgment it is extraordinary enough to require. 
Why is it necessary for Mr. Wilson to seek constant 
excuse for oedanticisms like those cited above? Or 
like these : 

44 They gave leave to their opinions, too, with a like down- 
right confidence, . . ." (p. 5.) 

" He had leave, in his independence, to be himself 
quite;" (p. 29.) 

" He had robust health, to which he gave leave in un- 
stinted work." (p. 106.) 

" He had never before had leave to be tender with chil- 
dren." (p. 107.) 

" Where men have leave to be individual. — " (p. 133.) 

14 The congress in Philadelphia was called upon to recog- 
nize it, adopt it, give it leave — " (p. 173.) 

29 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" When he succored distress, he did it in pity, not in jus- 
tice — not excusing fault, but giving leave to mercy/' (p. 
241.) 

(Wherein we have an interesting glimpse of the 
economic science and political philosophy of Mr. 
Wilson: — mortal distress is a matter for pitiful 
mercy — not just consideration. But this is a liter- 
ary examination.) 

An impressive phrase which often lends its charm 
to the style of George Washington is " must needs." 

" To find his humble quarters you must needs thread a 
path . . ." (p. 35.) 

" Settlers were making their way thither, who must needs 
have their holidays bounded." (p. 56.) 

" The Virginia note had been selected and must needs be 
made the best of." (p. 85.) 

" Beverly Robinson must needs have Miss Mary Philipse 
at his house." (p. 93.) 

" He must needs give a ball at Alexandria." (p. 143 J 

(Hunting) " must needs give way to a statesman's cares." 

(p. 243.) 
" Scorning soldiers who must needs blunder." (p. 296.) 

We get already in this book of 1898 a phrase very 
often since used by the author, which, however, be- 
came famous only twenty years later : Washington 
was " too proud to dissemble ' (p. 214) ; Beverly 

30 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

was " too proud to conceal his opinions" (p. 31) ; 
the colonies were " too proud to submit " (p. 26). 

We get numerous instance of a curious transposi- 
tion which later became habitual — like this: 
" Protest not only, but defiance, rang very clear in 
these feeling words " (p. 127). 

The concepts of space and time merge in the high 
philosophy of this book: the English " looked in a 
short space " to see French settlements increase (p. 
24) ; Washington, on page 103, was embarrassed " to 
find himself for a space too conspicuous; on page 144 
" he turned away for a space from the deepening 
trouble in the East to plunge once more into the 
western ways." (The land beyond the Alle- 
ghenies is usually " the western ways.") 

Virginians, " spite of change and seclusion," had a 
temperament in common with England (p. 5) ; New 
England kept to a single standard of conduct, " spite 
of slow change" (p. 12) ; Braddock's troops were 
able to fight, " spite of sickness" (p. 75). 

" The Old Dominion made shift to do without 
towns " (p. 6) ; Colonel Byrd found he " might make 
shift to enjoy " idleness (p. 34) ; Washington (p. 
194) struggled " to make shift " with poor levies. 

Spotswood was " Lieutenant-Governor in the stead 
of his Lordship the Earl of Orkney n (p. 37) ; Law- 
rence Washington got his brother a commission " in 

3i 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

his stead" (p. 58) ; Massachusetts (p. 168) formed 
a provincial congress " in the stead of n the old 
House of Delegates. 

Men of rustic exterior " yet were stuff of true 
courage " within (p. 127) ; "it was stuff of Wash- 
ington's nature to spend itself thus on " (p. 167) ; p. 
291, "it was stuff of his character, this purpose of 
independence." 

Colonel Byrd " was fain to think " well of New 
England (p. 12) ; Washington (p. 73) " was fain to 
go into camp." Virginians were "for the nonce" 
much of a mind with the Puritans (p. 13) ; France, 
on page 199, "for the nonce" was quick with sym- 
pathy for America. " For the rest " (p. 6) Virginia 
had no cities; " for the rest " (p. 30) those who liked 
could learn the languages; " for the rest" Washing- 
ton's fortunes were " to make." " There was no 
great mart " to which the trade of the colony was 
drawn (p. 6) ; Philadelphia (p. 17) was a busy 
" mart" No one might " make breach of the de- 
corous traditions" of the Assembly (p. 130); 
British regulars must (p. 87) stand in rank " without 
breach of discipline." They might press forward, 
" but where was the use? " The continentals were 
driven from Bunker Hiil, (so the historian calls it, 
page 180) only when they "failed of powder." 
The people of South Carolina (p. 205) "knew not 
when their homes might be plundered." The hero's 

32 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

particularity was sometimes (p. 240) " shot through 
with a gleam of grim humor." He could not escape 
the crowds (p. 24) : u he was too famous and there 
was an end on't." 

11 It was a country in which men kept their indi- 
viduality very handsomely withal" (p. 28) ; traders 
" must make good their title to what they were to 
trade withal" (p. 23); Pendleton (p. 131) u was 
withal so transparent"; Virginians (p. 133) had 
abundant opportunity to be frank, withal, if you 
will"; John Adams (p. 157) was "public-spirited 
withal." 

The people of England were " a whit stiffer than " 
others (p. 9) ; the situation mentioned on page 
twenty-six " was not altered a whit " ; Patrick Henry 
(p. 132) " was not daunted a whit" ; Mary Wash- 
ington at seventy-four " was not a whit bent " (p. 
229); George Washington (p. 266) " was not a 
whit the less resolute " to undertake the presidency. 

When a Virginian went into his field or mounted 
his horse, it was, we have seen, for sheer pleasure, 
" being quit of the house and breathing free in the 
genial air " (p. 28) ; Washington wanted to " he quit 
of the humiliation of being stinted like a beggar " 
(p. 80) ; " Many were fleeing England to he quit of 
the Puritan tyranny" (p. 129); Washington 
" longed to be quit of the narrow life of the colony " 
(p. 112). 

33 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" Randolph flung out of the house " (p. 132) ; 
America " flung away from her mother England " 
(p. 291). "The days fell dull" (p. 114); " the 
streets fell silent" (p. 272) ; " the King's govern- 
ment had fallen on defeat " (p. 50) . 

John Washington had become notable ft ere n he 
had been many years in Virginia; George learned his 
lessons u ere " war came ; the French had scarcely 
reached Canada "ere" Dinwiddie knew it; back- 
woodsmen had been hurried West u ere" spring; 
the French commander must withdraw " ere " he 
was besieged; Braddock gave an order "ere" the 
bullet struck him; Denmore was forced to pay for 
powder "ere" he could get rid of an annoyance; 
Jefferson began " ere long " to complain. 1 

There was once extant a somewhat irreverent 
pamphlet entitled Whither, oh! Whither? Tell me 
Where. The Wilson volume under examination 
might almost be entitled, Whence, Whence? In- 
form Me Out of What. For with scrupulous care 
does the author inform us of the origin of every char- 
acter, however obscure, and every movement, how- 
ever unimportant; and nothing, by any chance, comes 
from anywhere; all things come out of somewhere. 
Thus: 

" Out of Virginia, and out of Pennsylvania, as well as 
out of New York." (p. 24.) 

1 Pages 40, 41, 63, 71, 88, 89, 171, 287. 

34 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

"Out of England." (p. 16.) 

"Out of England." (p. 16.) 

"Out of England." (p. 18.) 

"Out of New England." (p. 19.) 

" Out of every colony." (p. 19J 

" Out of the eastern seas." (p. 22.) 

" Out of Bedfordshire." (p. 39.) 

"Out of Virginia." (p. 46.) 

"Out of England." (p. 46.) 

" Out of the colonies." (p. 48.) 

" Out of the country of the." (p. 60.) 

" Out of the west." (p. 61.) 

"Out of Canada." (p. 195.) 

" Out of Roxbury and East Cambridge." (p. 184J 

" The Barbadoes " occurs on page 26; " Hudson's 
River" on page 12; " the Carolinas " on pages 26 
and 27; " the Floridas " on page 298. 



We approach now a phenomenon upon which it 
will be necessary to pause and which it will be desir- 
able to illustrate liberally. This is Mr. Wilson's 
continued addiction to adjectives, a curiosity noted 
in the first chapter. Let us analyze more fully some 
of the features of this addiction visible in George 
Washington. 

Seldom is a geographical division or feature men- 
tioned without being decorated with a quality: 

35 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 4 the great continent 
5 the virgin continent 

119 the roomy continent 
246 the great continent 

12 the vast domain 

246 the vast territory 

247 the vast territory 

5 busy middle territories 

48 far-unhappy South 
57 fiery South 

117 quiet South 

120 almost feudal South 
119 litigious Massachusetts 

39 sturdy commonwealth 
37 fair colony of Virginia 

49 quiet colony of Virginia 
54 robust colony of Virginia 

101 hale colony of Virginia 

31 quiet land of Virginia 
204 stout little kingdom 
213 proud mother country 
255 powerful states 

45 fruitful northern neck 
5 characteristic communities 
295 quiet settlements 
247 far counties of Carolina 
247 vast counties (Carolina) 
303 vast counties of Pennsylvania 
145 vast quiet counties of Virginia 

54 wild country 

36 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 55 wild but goodly country 
106 far country of Ohio 

33 rude frontier 
106 far frontier 
no stricken frontier 

15 humble parish 
126 quiet parish 

24 quiet parish 
157 hospitable town 
228 quiet town 
228 fated town 
197 complacent town 

23 veritable town 

15 obscure village 
45 promising village 

246 rude hamlet 

No stream or bay can be mentioned without an 
adjective: 

Page 5 spreading Delaware 

191 broad Delaware 

190 that broad river the Delaware 

192 great unbridged stream (the Delaware) 
17 broad river (Rappahanock) 

6 each broad river (in Virginia) 
189 broad Hudson 

16 strong and ample Potomac 
55 sw r ollen Potomac 

55 sparkling Shenandoah 

37 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 23 mighty river (St. Lawrence) 

23 flooding Mississippi 

23 great body of dividing waters (Mississippi) 

23 vast river (Mississippi) 

24 spreading stream (Mississippi^ 
60 sluggish Mississippi 

60 royal stream (Mississippi) 
295 broad reaches (Mississippi) 
234 long reaches of the James 

245 upper reaches of the Potomac 

246 that great stream (the Ohio) 

23 long rivers 

24 wild banks (of the Ohio) 

41 broad reaches (of the Potomac) 

5 great bay at New York 

1 8 great bay at New York 

4 long Atlantic seaboard 

17 great coast line 

23 far Lake Michigan 

59 great water courses 

65 swollen rivers 

242 long rivers 

Unhappy, indeed, is any topographical feature 
without its adjective: 

Page 24 thicketed hills 

55 swelling hillsides 
41 gentle slopes 
72 sharp slopes 
120 great ridge 

38 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 242 forested mountains 

49 fruitful villages 

61 sweet villages 

26 fair villages 

246 fertile villages 

24 far villages 

Never are the forests described without their more 
or less necessary attributes : 

Page 4 still forests 
12 thick forests 
38 rude forests 
54 untrodden forests 
54 thicketed forests 
74 dripping forests 

85 dense forests 

86 shadowed forests 
184 unwilling forests 
195 vast forests 

195 deep forests 
6 virgin woodland 

51 tangled woods 

74 wet woods 

94 fatal woods 
166 autumn woods 

11 broad wilderness 

24 shadowed wilderness 

66 frozen wilderness 

85 tangled wilderness 

39 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Natural enough are the aristocratic attributes 
ascribed to the ample possessions in Virginia, and 
farther West, of Mr. Wilson's heroes: 

Page 5 ample acreage 
6 broad estates 
1 6 goodly region 
33 great tracts 
40 spacious homestead 

48 broad estates 

49 ancestral estates 

50 great manor-house 
54 vast tracts 

57 quiet seat 

57 large estate 

85 cultivated farms 
1 
104 handsome property 

no broad forested tracts 

142 fair lands 

234 handsome seat 

234 broad, half feudal estates 

246 fair region 

Times, no less than places, afford opportunity for 
pause. Periods of the calendar may not pass Mr. 
Wilson's consciousness without being labeled each 
with some more or less appropriate attribute. 
Thus: 



Page 5 fateful days 
47 terrible days 



40 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 47 romantic days 

49 those unhappy days 
103 quiet days 
109 frosty days 
307 quiet days 
149 long August day 

22 weary years 

37 eighteen good years 

49 a hundred healing years 
119 the quiet year (1772) 
139 ominous year 
213 long year 

258 long year 

29 long evenings 

75 dreary morning 
102 dreary autumn 
no long hopeless summer 
221 troubled summer 

259 slow summer 

168 that portentous spring 

258 an anxious week 

259 the long four months 
102 the healing months 
102 very happy season 
197 bitter season 

34 laughing times 
4 adventurous XV Century 

Few are the names which are admitted to this 
chronicle without an introductory epithet, generally 

4i 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

of graceful compliment. I allow myself space to 
list only a couple of dozen examples : 

Page 48 the gallant Vernon 

50 the soldierly house of Fairfax 
102 the vivacious house of Cary 

83 the brave and energetic Sharpe 
86 the truculent Braddock 

100 the unhappy Braddock 
100 the dutiful Bishop 

119 bluff Sir Robert 

120 that quiet gentleman, the Rev. Andrew Barnaby 
136 the gallant Fauquier 

136 the officious Dinwiddie 

J 39 gentle John Blair 

153 quiet Richard Bland 

192 the gallant Cornwallis 

195 the prudent Howe 

200 the boyish Lafayette 

260 the distinguished Steuben 

208 the veteran Steuben 

208 the daring master of calvary Lee 

215 the gallant Montgomery 

235 the quiet Fauquier 

265 the faithful and sedulous Thomson 

59 the good Mr. Beverley 

73 the good Coleman Fry 

84 the sagacious Franklin 

279 Henry Knox, that gallant officer 

On page 103 we are introduced to " the gracious 

42 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

and stately Robinson "; on page 1 13, the gentleman 
is bowed in as " the already veteran Speaker "; on 
page 130 he reenters as " the veteran Speaker John 
Robinson, so old in affairs, so stately in his age, so 
gravely courteous, and yet with such a threat of good 
manners against those who should make breach of 
the decorous traditions of the place." 

Thus we get an idea as to how many adjectives 
Mr. Wilson can utter before one can say " Jack 
Robinson." 

We get: 

Page 13 redoubtable cavalier 

15 gallant colonel 

37 doughty Scot 

37 headstrong agitator 

37 stalwart, formidable master 

45 provident father 

47 provident mother 

47 fair and beautiful girl 

49 stout soldier 

49 fair jilt 

49 spendthrift father 

49 austere bachelor 

51 prudent mother 

51 robust boy 

52 manly brother 

52 generous man 

53 thoroughbred boy 
53 highbred man 

43 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 53 daring lad 
53 sober lad 
56 careful agent 
59 efficient lady 
59 young major 
69 testy Governor 
69 hardheaded Scotsman 
65 alert young Virginian 
65 wayworn Ambassador 
73 doughty mathematician 
75 wily Indian 
75 gallant Virginian 

79 good Scotsman 

80 high-spirited officer 

81 brave man 

81 veteran soldier 

82 self-confident gentleman 

83 proud gentleman 

83 stout-hearted old lawyer 

83 every inch a gentleman 

84 cool-headed trader 

93 stout and steady soldier 

99 charming woman 

99 gracious matron 
100 stately young soldier 
100 abstracted officer 

100 young colonel 

101 raw lad 

101 fair young beauty 

102 young soldier 

44 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 102 brave horseman 

103 gallant, indomitable soldier 
103 gallant, indomitable soldier 
107 soldierly young planter 
107 gentle girl 
109 gallant horseman 
no heartiest sportsman 
in masterful young soldier 
114 arrogant officer 

117 haughty spirit 

118 that shrewd master 

119 that sturdy Governor 

119 that diligent servant of the Crown 

121 doughty seaman 

121 a worthy collector of His Majesty's customs 

127 very rustic figure 

130 formidable man 

143 man of honor 

143 frontiered soldier 

153 downright gentleman 

155 quiet Massachusetts lawyer 



The above instances, jotted down by glancing 
through less than one-half of the volume, could be 
augmented indefinitely; they represent in all cases 
purely ornamental attribution of qualities. It is of 
no consequence for the purposes of the narrative that 
the brother was manly, or the agitator headstrong, 
or the governor testy, the Scot or the seaman or the 

45 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

mathematician doughty, the officer gallant, or in- 
domitable, or spirited, or alert. The circumstances 
are of slight interest in themselves, and of none of 
this particular story. 

This is all — what? Idleness, or vanity, or slug- 
gishness of mind? Does Mr. Wilson stop to tell us 
that the youth is " an engaging youth," or the spy a 
11 common spy," or the owner a " proud owner," be- 
cause he desires to prove his own leisurely character 
and vindicate the rights of leisure by requiring that 
his readers waste their time? Or has he somewhere 
got the idea that these tedious and silly epithets are 
a necessary part of a courtly style? Is he merely 
infatuated with the sound of certain words which he 
must incessantly seek excuse to utter? Or is his 
brain constitutionally reluctant to propel the advance 
of thought, and by its nature doomed to hesitate, 
dawdle , characterize, qualify, eulogize — anything, 
to postpone the moment of forward-moving cerebra- 
tion? 

One thing is clear enough. The use of a style like 
this is poor proof of a devotion to truth for truth's 
sake. The relation of this biography to the facts of 
Washington's life is remote, indeed, in any way con- 
sidered; this carnival of adjectives is only one be- 
trayal of the frivolity of the story; but it is a suffi- 
cient one. Colonels are presumed to be gallant, 
ladies fair, servants diligent, Scotsmen hard-headed, 

46 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Indians wily. Books are not written to insist upon, 
or cerebrate, attributes so familiar. It is a confirmed 
habit of evasion of contact with serious fact which 
dictates the habitual pause to dwell upon customary 
and assumable characteristics. While, as to the as- 
signment to other personages of qualities not to be 
assumed as matter of course, it is in the instances 
above and in scores more, obviously mechanical 
and unreal in most cases, supererogatory in all, per- 
tinent in few. 

The author's mania for characterization is even 
more possessing when he speaks of classes or groups 
of men. They are almost invariably endowed with 
characteristics, sometimes natural, sometimes forced, 
sometimes unascertainable if existing, and almost 
always devoid of importance or relevancy. Any- 
body who will sit down for half an hour with a copy 
of George. W ashington, a pencil and a few sheets of 
paper can double the following list of a hundred 
typical examples: 

Page 7 stately men 

7 sturdy frontiersmen 
IO stout men-at-arms 
io hardy reformers 
io hardy people 
14 stout bishops 
14 dashing soldiers 
14 stout polemical priors 

47 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 14 thrifty burghers 
14 gallant courtiers 
14 prosperous merchants 
14 public-spirited gentlemen 
17 prudent men 
17 thrifty Quaker 

19 sturdy people 

20 strong men 

22 rough men 

23 shrewd fur traders 
23 dauntless priests 
23 cultivated men 

34 rough people 
34 spirited men 

34 comely women 

36 austere scholars 

35 good churchman 

37 sturdy race 

46 active gentlemen 
48 devoted force 

48 raw provincials 

49 hardy people 

54 fearless woodsmen 

39 hardy militiamen 

61 thrifty Germans 

61 hardy Scots-Irish 

61 enterprising gentlemen 

61 influential partners 

63 placid Quakers 

63 stolid Germans 

48 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 64 hostile savages 

64 hardy travelers 

65 self-reliant traders 
71 ragged regiment 
71 raw volunteers 
76 ragged troops 

76 ragged idlers 

77 stalwart young men 
83 headstrong Quakers 

83 headstrong Germans 

84 dreaded Mohawks 
84 cool-headed traders 
87 steady regulars 

87 motley host 
86 serried ranks 
86 great host 
89 savage enemies 
91 hardy breed 

91 valiant men 

92 helpless people 
IO 1 fair women 
113 raw levies 

117 prudent traders 
117 phlegmatic farmers 
127 courtly gentlemen 

130 quiet men 

131 proud race 

132 proud men 

135 ardent men 

136 accomplished men 

49 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 136 vivacious women 

137 high-spirited men 

154 red-coated sentries 

156 plain men 

157 brusque planters 
157 well-to-do merchants 

157 provincial country gentlemen 

157 enlightened citizens 

158 rustic squires 

163 designing politician 

164 influential members 

165 thoughtful Englishmen 
165 thoughtful men 

154 hot-headed mob 
162 frank Virginians 
171 daring provincials 
171 rude army 
180 raw peasants 
180 raw peasants 

180 motley host 

181 uncouth plowboys 
190 raw troops 

195 invading host 

195 splendid army 

200 that studious race of soldiers 

204 gallant men 

224 brutal company 

228 gay company 

242 raw nation 

247 hardy frontiersmen 

50 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 258 that anxious body 

280 that race of Virginia statesmen 

281 the common run of people 
286 impracticable Quakers 

We have asked ourselves more than once what is 
the secret of this practice of attaching a description 
to every noun. Mere leisurely habit, love of orna- 
mental words for their own sake, dawdling sluggish- 
ness, positive disinclination to advance, have sug- 
gested themselves. Is it not clear, now, that the 
explanation is deeper? If he deems it necessary to 
label everything with a characteristic — like those 
symbolic statues of uncertain physiognomy, each with 
its attribute in its hand, which we sometimes see on 
old churches — does it not seem as if an author must 
lack confidence in the ability of the unassisted name 
of a fact to convey the fact? May we not be getting 
in this addiction, the extent and obstinacy of which 
we now begin to see, a symptom of habitual misgiv- 
ing? Whatever else there may be to it, the suspi- 
cion cannot he escaped that this is no mere verbal 
embroidery, but the result of chronic, constitutional 
Doubt. 

Additional evidence of this is afforded by every 
step we advance in the exploration of Mr. Wilson's 
style. 

51 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Where shall we easily find such haggard anxiety 
to be believed, such implicit confession that the 
simple word has no claim to acceptance unless re- 
enforced by a solemn asseveration of its truth — 
where, as in a book which in " downright confi- 
dence " and " in very earnest " with " artless sin- 
cerity," or " candid meaning," " brutally frank," in 
" true sovereign fashion," under " the plain guar- 
antees " of " unmistakable authentication," and with 
" the authentic badge of genuineness," 1 speaks of: 

Page 109 the naked fact 

125 actual legislation 
108 genuine love 

101 real home 
108 real sport 
117 real tempest 

126 real aristocracy 
164 real voice 

167 real concession 
252 real consequence 
293 real sentiment 

9 veritable aristocracy 

21 veritable pirates 

25 veritable sovereigns 

33 veritable town 

102 veritable heart's mistress 
124 veritable tempest 

126 veritable democrat 

1 Pages 5, 62, 130, 32, 65, 17, 123, 156, 226. 

52 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 130 veritable antiquarian 

194 veritable army 
293 veritable art 
170 that very night 
297 that very month 

195 their very homes 
205 her very coasts 
162 the very heart 
236 the very men 
236 the very nation 
241 the very walls 

123 the very constitution 

256 the very impersonation 

268 the very artlessness 

10 the very thick 

215 the very pleasantry of daring 

225 the very French court itself 

24 the very presence almost of the French them- 
selves 



Everything looms large in the pages of the author 
of George Washington. On every page is evident a 
curious lack of any sense of proportion. " Deep ex- 
citement ran through the colonies " after Patrick 
Henry's speech and the adoption of the Virginia 
Resolutions (page 134), and " the deep excitement 
of the gaming table " fills the next page but one. 
A custom familiar to Virginians for a couple of gen- 
erations is (page 142) " an immemorial habit." 

53 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

When Continental fortunes were at a low ebb, 
" wholesale desertions began, — as many as one hun- 
dred men a month going over to the enemy " (page 
206). The agitated author tells us that " though it 
were in never so quiet a parish, the very walls of the 
church groaned threateningly under the unaccus- 
tomed weight of people" (page 241) gathered to 
see Washington. At every rustic wedding a gen- 
eration ago the table groaned under the viands, as a 
customary manner of speech employed by every pro- 
vincial newspaper; the phrase has therefore excellent 
authority and deserves notice here only as an in- 
stance of the tip-toe style. 

It is difficult — he himself would say, most diffi- 
cult — for Mr. Wilson to state anything without an 
intensification. If the object which swims under his 
ken is not, as it is likely to be, " absolutely," it is 
tolerably certain to be " most " or " very," some- 
thing or other. On a single page, (106) for in- 
stance, we get " insatiable relish," " unstinted work," 
" unflagging discipline," and " tireless ride." On 
another page (218) we read of " the supreme and 
final test," and of " perfect praise crowned with full 
meaning." On page 75 we have a story of " damp 
mists," " slimy mud," and " black darkness." We 
get: 

Page 66 infinite pains 

85 infinite difficulty 

54 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 276 infinite weight 

82 intolerable indignity 

142 immemorial habit 

159 immemorial privilege 

85 endless procession 

86 utter want 
86 utter want 

89 utter destruction 
293 complete mastery 
136 vastly preferred 
287 beyond measure dismayed 
214 beyond measure fortunate 

127 whole variety 

128 whole energy 

201 whole face of affairs 

258 whole mind and energy 

213 the full proofs 

218 supreme and final test 

227 utterly forgotten 

122 every precedent 

122 every principle 

124 every man 

no heartiest sportsman 

112 most tasteful 

130 most dear 

246 most solemn 

279 most critical 

34 very anxious 

38 very sarcastic 

40 very fertile 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 40 very close 
40 very close 
64 very influential 

64 very cordial 
70 very manly 
80 very brief 

102 very happy 
102 very bright 
112 very substantial 

112 very elegant 

113 very quiet 
124 very honest 

126 very extraordinary 
126 very capable 
130 very wise prudence 
130 very formidable 
134 very violent 
214 very safe 
214 very resolved 
260 very gallant 

31 very handsomely 

33 very shrewdly 

48 very quietly 

63 very strenuously 

63 very anxiously 

65 very courteously 
119 very bluntly 
136 very seriously 
167 very anxiously 
223 very gravely 

56 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 277 very calmly 

28 sheer pleasure 

78 sheer destruction 

87 sheer eagerness 

10 wild excess of joy 

1 1 stubborn protest 
22 stern endeavor 
22 great fur trade 

28 rare leisurely intimacy 
32 piquant humor 
32 quiet sarcasm 
31 simple history 

47 deadly heat 

48 sad miscarriage 

49 cruel misadventure 
57 frank enjoyment 
62 multitudinous fleet 
65 brutally frank 

76 bitter trial 

78 deadly missiles 

79 sad blunder 

81 sorry blunder 

82 intolerable indignity 

88 reckless courage 

89 frantic search 
91 keen knife 

112 great gusto 
114 keen resentment 

118 sound discretion 

119 sad blunder 

5.7 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Page 122 instant exasperation 
123 plain guarantees 

126 flat defiance 

127 essential quality 

129 astounding eloquence 

130 artless sincerity 

131 reverent piety 
135 sad forebodings. 

137 unmistakable authentication 

146 instant impression 

153 downright country gentleman 

158 rich abundance 

158 instant acceptance 

161 straightforward candor 

162 frank cordiality 
172 instant impression 
187 eager obedience 
187 bitter things 

190 bitter defeat 

192 first onset 

179 quite ten thousand 

195 quite twenty thousand 

196 sorely puzzled 

197 deep demoralization 
199 naked fact 

199 stern silence 

206 sheer disgust 

213 hopeless indifference 

213 desperate incompetence 

246 vast gifts 

58 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

Page 249 vast sums 

250 steady self-possession 

256 violent rebellion 

259 masterly plea 

271 masterly self-possession 

279 most critical 

279 masterly papers 

292 cool self-possession 

296 sudden fury 

298 awful courtesy 

298 majestic self-control 

302 vast counties 

However, there are not lacking, on the other hand, 
qualifications — retreats from the full literal mean- 
ing of the employed words. In this early work, 
though, intensifications strongly predominate. In 
several instances the qualification is added to an in- 
tensified sentence apparently as an afterthought sug- 
gested by doubt. On page 124, Mr. Wilson writes: 
" The one was constitutional agitation; the other flat 
rebellion — little less." Was it rebellion, or flat 
rebellion, or little less than rebellion? On page 24 
Mr. Wilson tells us that Virginia perceived that she 
must stand " in the very presence almost of the 
French themselves." We may return to these sen- 
tences as illustrations of a capital phenomenon. 

A feature which very soon draws the attention of 

59 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

the reader is the extremely frequent repetition of cer- 
tain words; among them "air," "blood," "bred," 
" broad," " counsel," " eye," " far," " frank," " gal- 
lant," " genial," " gentleman," " indomitable," 
"heart," "masterly," "process," "quick." "sim- 
ple," " shrewd," " touch," and " vision." 

When it is said that " business " is a favorite word 
with Mr. Wilson, it will not, of course, for a moment 
be dreamed that it is employed in the vulgar sense of 
a mercantile pursuit. Anything but that; the word 
is purely pronominal, serving as an invaluable counter 
for anything under the sun which the writer is too 
indolent or too distracted to name specifically. My 
notes record forty cases of " critical business," the 
most numerous kind of all, " ugly business," " trying 
business," " fateful business," " terrible business," 
" stern business," " hazardous business," " trouble- 
some business," " hot business," " bad business," 
" stiff business," and the like. 

The air — the " genial air," or the " radiant air," 
or the " genial and hospitable air," the " subtle," the 
" practical," the " gentle," the " native," or the 
what-not " air " blows through many pages, with the 
numbers of a few of which, I fear, I must ask the 
publisher to disfigure this otherwise beautiful and 
interesting page. 1 I hope a score of examples will 

1 Pages 4, 6, 7, 9, 28, 32, 57 (twice), 66, 75, 112, 159, 252, 275, 277, 
287, 289 (twice), 302. 

60 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

satisfy the gentle reader. " The genial air of the 
wide Empire had blown in all ordinary seasons 
through their affairs; " " the subtle air of that age," 
and, thirty words further along, " the practical air 
of America," will serve to illustrate the usage. 



Those important items of the human anatomy, the 
heart and the eye, possess an attraction for Mr. Wil- 
son which it would, of course, at this stage of investi- 
gation, be a grievous mistake to confound with fetish- 
ism. It is merely interesting to find that a swift 
turning of the pages yields thirty-seven references to 
the cardiac organ. 1 The organ of vision, especially 
that of the hero of the book, also exercises a peculiar 
fascination over the biographer. He notes Wash- 
ington's father's " frank gray eyes " (there may be a 
record of the color, but hardly of the frankness) ; 
and the young son's " steady gray eyes " (it can only 
be presumed they were steady) ; a little later on " his 
proud eyes "; when he courted Martha Custis, it was 
with " his frank blue eyes " ; the light sprang into his 
"quiet eye," when Patrick Henry spoke (the his- 
torian quotes no documents) ; at Boston with greater 
particularity, there sprang " a blithe light in his blue 
eyes "; " his grave and steady eyes " challenged his 

1 23 (twice), 25, 62, 64, 74, 76, 93, 102 (thrice), in, 162, 202, 203, 
216, 225, 233, 239, 248, 249, 256, 266, 267, 268, 308, 10, 20, 77, 83, 
92, 154 (twice), 166, 190, 273. 

6l 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

interlocutor; but the very artlessness of his admirers 
"brought tears to his eyes "; however, his enemies 
were " permitted to. see not so much as the quiver of 
an eyelid." * 



But the group of often-repeated words includes 
several which are employed in a meaning remote 
from the ordinary. 

Typical of this group is the word " counsel" My 
memoranda on George Washington note forty-four 
instances in which, already in 1896, this word was 
employed by its famous sponsor in the peculiar 
pedantic sense in which its appearance marks all his 
later writings. It will be sufficient at this point 
merely to note those earlier bows; the significance of 
the addiction will perhaps be discussed in a later 
chapter. The usage is this: 

" To E. A. W. ' without whose sympathy and counsel, lit- 
erary work would lack inspiration ' " — Dedication. 

" Those who took counsel in England concerning colonial 
affairs had constant occasion to work . . ." (p. 9.) 

" European politics straightway entered their counsels." 

(p. 25.) 

" The colonies took counsel, each for itself, how they 
should prosper." (p. 27.) 

1 The references are respectively to pages 46, 54, 82, 101, 133, 185, 
238, 268, 306. Other instances occur on pages 24, 26, 33, 54, 63, 155, 
171, 214, 223, 23*5, 287, 292, 306, 309. 

62 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

" When he was not quite sixteen, George Washington 
1 quit ' his formal schooling and ' presently joined his brother 
. . . to seek counsel.'" (p. 52.) 

" George greatly struck his lordship's fancy, as a daring 
lad in the hunt and a sober lad in counsel" (He was six- 
teen.) (p. 53.) 

". . . laughed a wily Indian, who gave him counsel 
freely . . ." (p. 75.) 

". . . almost every man of chief consequence in the 
counsels of the colony." (p. 124.) 

"... a very formidable man in counsel" (p. 130.) 
". . . George Mason . . . confirmed him in other coun- 
sels." (p. 135.) 

11 Older leaders resumed that sway in counsel . . ." (p. 
188.) 

". . . called into counsel" (p. 146.) 
" It was counsel for prudence that . . ." (p. 156.) 
". . . rather than anxious counsel." (p. 158.) 
" Had not the counsel of his officers restrained him." 
" No man who could lend service a hand or take a turn 
at counsel . . ." (p. 217.) 

" The Congress was not slack in sustaining his counsels." 
(p. 219.) 

"... a winter of ineffectual counsel." (p. 221.) 
" The Congress counseled his release (p. 225.) 
". . . had carried its affairs by his own counsels, (p. 242.) 
". . . Sheer helplessness and hopeless division in counsel. 
(p. 248.) 
11 His counsel entered into their determinations." (p. 292.) 

Is it literary elegance or rather clumsy pedantry 

63 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

to write: " his counsel entered into their determina- 
tions?" On the page and a half 258-259 we get 
the word five times: 

" Washington had uttered brave counsel of wisdom in re- 
buke." 

" Such grave earnestness in counsel." 
" James Madison, that young master of counsel." 
u Washington had kept counsel with the rest." 
" He had given his whole mind and energy to every proc- 
ess of difficult counsel." l 

What does it mean : " Every process of difficult 
counsel? " Is it profound thought or babbling 
echo? We have this on page 122: — " Such chal- 
lenge of the process was uttered by colonial coun- 
sel—" 

" Process'* which later becomes a favorite addic- 
tion with Mr. Wilson, had not at this period de- 
veloped its full fascination for him. We get, how- 
ever, such mystic locutions as this (p. 4) : 

" Washington's life showed the whole process of breeding 
by which Virginia conceived so great a generosity in manli- 
ness and public spirit." 

It would be difficult to construct a sentence equally 
devoid of meaning; it is a vague, random, and in- 

1 Other instances of counsel are on pages 86, 134, 184, 208, 214, 
223, 224, 235, 242, 260, 279, 280, 287, 288, 289, 308. 

64 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

congruous meandering of phrases. Of course, we 
must not be certain that the author is not laughing 
in his sleeve at the audience, as he passes out such 
solemn humbug. 

On page 134 we hear about " the processes" of 
an Act of Parliament; on page 300 we hear about 
the "processes of diplomatic action "; on page 141, 
the issue of writs is a "process " ; on page 241, we 
are delighted with this: 

" His mind kept that trait — ■ that trick, as if of Fate, of 
letting every act come at its consequences ... as if he but 
presided at a process which was just Nature's own." 

" Concert " is used in a pedagogic sense in such 
phrases as "concert of action" (pp. 133, 146); 

concert of means " (p. 153) ; "to concert action " 
(p. 162) ; " to concert a policy " (p. 296) . 



My memoranda on George Washington include 
some forty or fifty arresting instances of the employ- 
ment, invariably uncalled-for, of the word " quick " 
— not ordinarily in the sense of swift; more often 
with a lazy intention of suggesting vitality, nervous 
sensibility, or pregnancy. I record, without com- 
ment, a typical score of illustrations: 

We have references to " every stage of quick 
change " (p. 5) ; " that quick air of change " (p. 6) ; 
u the quick and various English life " (p. 90) ; 

65 



a 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Hamilton's "quick years" (279) ; and his "quick 
genius in affairs" (p. 283); South Carolina 
" showed a quick life " (p. 18) ; and love is " the 
quick passion " (p. 101). 

" Books, as well as men . . . seemed to fill him 
with the quick principles of the people and policy to 
which he belonged" (128). There is nothing in 
the context to show why books and men did this; 
or why the principles were " quick " ; or why Pat- 
rick Henry, principles, people and policy are asso- 
ciated in the sentence, except to round out an allite- 
ration of ps. 

Duquesne had " quick soldier's blood " (p. 60) ; 
Washington " found his quick blood tonic enough " 
(p. 109) ; Braddock was "quick with energy" (p. 
81) ; " France was quick with sympathy for Amer- 
ica " (p. 199) ; Pennsylvania was fairly quick with 
incipient revolution" (p. 303); Washington's 
speech was " quick with solemn eloquence " (p. 308 ) . 

" This was a business that touched the colonies 
to the quick }) (p. 24) ; a letter from Washington 
" touched the imagination of thoughtful men as near 
to the quick as . . ." (p. 70). But it seems that 
being touched to the quick is a life-long habit with 
Virginians, for on page 129, they are " royalists all, 
and touched to the quick with the sentiment of loy- 
alty." 

Washington " felt to the quick the lessons . . ." 

66 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

(p. 77) ; he " was cut to the quick " (p. 190) ; and 
the abuse heaped upon him on (p. 306) " cut him to 
the quick." 



" Touch " is a word the figurative employment of 
which is common. Few writers, however, would 
employ it constantly, without an occasional resort to 
some other expression; merely for relief from mo- 
notony, one would occasionally substitute a tinge, a 
trifle, a suggestion, a smack, a trace, or even, straight- 
forwardly, a little. That verbal monotony attracts, 
and does not bore Mr. Wilson is the interesting 
phenomenon we shall more and more witness. In 
this small volume he talks of 

the touch of time 

a touch of gayety 

a touch of rusticity 

a touch of violence 

a touch of harshness 

a touch of daring 

a touch of hardness 

a touch of love 

an added touch of simplicity 

a touch of added bitterness 

a touch more of steadiness 

a touch of another quality 

a touch of old world address 

67 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

a touch of their own 

that easy touch and intimate mastery 

a touch now and again of such pleasures 

and so forth. 1 



Seriously to consider the book as biography or 
history is impossible. It is essentially subjective 
romance, marked by a complacent acquiescence in 
the conventional picture of the shabby pseudo-feudal 
society which had pretended to transplant in Vir- 
ginia the out-worn principles of Georgian England; 
by innocence of, or contempt for, the larger signifi- 
cance of the emancipated life which was blossoming 
in the Western Hemisphere. 

The whole spirit and tone of Mr. Wilson's story 
of Washington is so completely that of devotion to 
the ideals of caste, that no scant quotations can con- 
vey a sense of the author's profound reverence for 
rank and the virtues of those who have it, his glow- 
ing gratitude to them, and his happiness in being per- 
mitted to write of them. He is never so eloquent as 
when talking of kings, and he never misses a chance 
to mention them, however remote the connection; 
and never does he mention a king except with the 
due formal appellations of royalty. " He had car- 

1 The references are to pages 5, 34, 127, 155, 188, 191, 266, 268, 30, 
302, 126, 53, 53, 224, 50, 184. See also pp. 10, 17, 29, 57, 58, 71, 76, 
101, 127, 129, 216, 217, 247, 280. 

68 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

ried the royal commission in his pocket as Advocate- 
General in His Majesty's Court of Admiralty; but 
he would not have scrupled, even as His Majesty's 
servant . . ." (page 123) — is a fair illustration of 
the possibilities of delightfully lighting up a narra- 
tive in this way. He falls, on the slightest excuse, 
into likening his figures to royal personages: 

11 Clark, that daring Saxon frontiersman, who moved so 
like a king through the far forests." (p. 204.) 

". . . entering the room . . . with his aged mother on 
his arm, not a whit bent for all her seventy-four years, and 
as quiet as a queen." (p. 228.) 

"The singular majesty (of Washington) . . . struck the 
French officers." (p. 215.) 

Young Washington " carried himself like a prince." (p. 
IOO.) 

". . . that mien as if the man (the President) were a 
prince." (p. 175.) 

" No king in days of king's divinity, could have looked 
for so heartfelt a welcome." (p. 268.) 

(Peyton Randolph) "was a sort of prince among the 
rest. . . . There were traditions of loyalty and service in 
his breeding which no man might rightly ignore. His 
father before him had won knighthood and the royal favor 
by long and honorable service as his Majesty's attorney in 
the colony. Pride and loyalty had gone hand in hand in 
the annals of a proud race, and had won ... a pres- 
tige. . . ." (p. 131.) 

" No man born in Virginia had a greater property than 

69 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

he, a house more luxuriously appointed, or a part to play 
more princely. . . . His breeding had greatly quickened his 
perception of such things. He had had a long training 
abroad, had kept very noble company. . . ." (p. 33.) 

The book is singularly preoccupied with effort to 
discover aristocracy. " Punctilios," " traditions, 
" social primacy," " homage," " loyalty," " largess, 
" formality," " points of honor," " careful courtesy, 
11 gracious dignity," " proud bearing," " precedence, 
" nice etiquette," " lordly country gentlemen, 
" feudal estates," " ancient distinctions of class and 
manners," and a score more of like phrases, be- 
jewel every chapter. Birth and breeding, dress and 
bearing, may with perfect justice be said to occupy 
more space than any other single topic. My mem- 
oranda show fifty-seven instances in which in this 
book Mr. Wilson uses the word " gentleman " in 
invidious distinction from " the crowd," " the rab- 
ble," " the lower class," " the yeomanry," " the raw 
provincials," " the common run of people." More 
than seventy times he deems it necessary to refer to 
" breeding." Even Washington's horse must be 
41 of the full blood of Araby " (p. no), and his 
very dogs are named and noted as blue-blooded. 

We close the book wondering whether the hero 
was a strutting braggart, or his painter an ingenuous 
rustic, or a humorist. Washington, after a long 
and elaborate preparation for his proud entry, 

7° 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

stalks upon the stage like a matinee idol. He re- 
fuses to fight for his country except as an officer of 
the grade to which he thinks himself entitled. " It 
was no tradition of his class to submit to degrada- 
tion of rank. . . . The high-minded young officer in- 
sisted upon a just consideration of his rank." He 
makes the long trip from Virginia to Boston to see 
Shirley, the Commander-in-Chief in the Colonies, to 
obtain " a settlement of the teasing question." 

" He went very bravely dight in proper uniform of buff 
and blue, a white-and-scarlet cloak upon his shoulders, the 
sword at his side knotted with red and gold, his horse's fit- 
tings engraved with the Washington arms, and trimmed in 
the best style of the London saddlers. With him rode two 
aides in their uniforms, and two servants in their white-and- 
scarlet livery. Curious folk who looked upon the celebrated 
young officer upon the road saw him fare upon his way 
with all the pride of a Virginian gentleman, a handsome man, 
and an admirable horseman — a very gallant figure, no one 
could deny." (pages 92 and 93.) 

It was at his own wedding that the young patri- 
cian's " love of a gallant array and becoming cere- 
mony was satisfied to the full " for the first time; — 
it ought to have been, if the scene were anything 
like that painted in the glittering bravery of this au- 
thor's phrases. When Washington " took horse " 
and rode to assume command of the Continental 

71 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Army, he did not fail to play the part which so de- 
lights his biographer : 

" There might have been universal license had the rabble 
not seen their leaders so noble, so bent upon high and hon- 
orable purposes. It was an object lesson in the character of 
the revolution to see Washington ride through the colonies 
to take charge of an insurgent army. And no man or 
woman, or child even, was likely to miss the lesson. That 
noble figure drew all eyes to it ; that mien as if the man were 
a prince. . . . There was something about Washington that 
quickened the pulses of the crowd at the same time that he 
awed them, that drew cheers that were a sort of voice of 
worship." (page 175.) 

There was only one apparent flaw in the princely 
look of the great man — and that was really only 
another mark of his courage and gallantry: his face 
was marked by small-pox. But he had acquired that 
in a noble way: having been invited to dinner at a 
house which harbored the disease, he had insisted 
upon going, " with true Virginian punctilio " (page 
58). Arriving in Cambridge, he had been 
" shocked " and " disgusted " by the " insolence " 
and " stupidity " of the " uncouth provincials " he 
was to command. But in midwinter, Mrs. Wash- 
ington drove into camp, u come all the way from 
Virginia with proper escort, in her coach and four, 
her horses bestridden by black postillions in their 

72 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

livery of scarlet and white; and she had seemed to 
bring with her to the homely place not only the cere- 
monious habit but the genial and hospitable air of 
Virginia." (page 184.) 

By the end of the war, the Commander-in-Chief, 
11 in the large dignity and pride of his stately bear- 
ing," had conquered all classes of the people, even 
" the rabble," " filling their imagination and reign- 
ing over them as securely as over his troops, who 
for so long had felt his will wrought upon them day 
by day." He had to be even more punctilious and 
masterful and proud and reserved and grim than 
ever, when he became President. He " set up a 
fixed etiquette to be observed by all who would ap- 
proach him." However, as Mr. Wilson insists with 
much particularity, he was not totally inaccessible; 
at least, " there should be no parade of inaccessibil- 
ity." " Henceforth he would pay no more calls, 
accept no invitations. On a day fixed he would re- 
ceive calls; and he would show himself once a week 
at Mrs. Washington's general reception. He would 
invite persons of official rank or marked distinction 
to his table at suitable intervals. . . . Every proper 
outward form of dignity, ceremony, and self-respect 
should be observed that might tell wholesomely upon 
the imagination of the people. . . ." (The imagina- 
tion, not the reason, of the people.) And the com- 
mon people themselves were permitted to see him 

73 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

with their own eyes: " It was not that the Presi- 
dent was not to be seen by anybody who had the 
curiosity to wish to see him. Many a fine afternoon 
he was to be seen walking, an unmistakable figure, 
upon the Battery, whither all persons of fashion in 
the town resorted for their daily promenade, his sec- 
retaries walking behind him, but otherwise unat- 
tended. Better still, he could be seen almost any 
day on horseback, riding in his noble way through 
the streets." Mr. Wilson dwells with the greatest 
interest upon the extremity of the first President's 
condescending amiability — " better still, he could be 
seen almost any day " — on horseback. Not even 
Foreign Ministers might come to him personally; 
the French Minister dared to try it, and learned his 
lesson. " It was not likely a man bred in the proud 
school of Virginian country gentlemen would miss so 
obvious a point of etiquette as this " (p. 276) . His 
was more than the manner of courts and majesty — 
it was divine. 

" The singular majesty and the poise of this Revolutionary 
hero struck the French officers as infinitely more remarkable 
than his mastery in the field . . . they had not thought to 
see in him a great gentleman . . . and yet so lifted above 
the manner of courts and drawing-rooms by an incommun- 
icable quality of grave sincerity ... it constituted the at- 
mosphere and apotheosis of the man." (p. 215.) 



74 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

When he went on what Mr. Wilson calls his royal 
progress through the newly-united States, Washing- 
ton, knowing that " the common run of people must 
learn respect, studiously contrived to make it every- 
where felt by every turn of behavior and ceremon- 
ial." With special gusto Mr. Wilson relates how 
the new President, visiting Boston, forced old Gov- 
ernor John Hancock to leave his bed and make the 
first call upon him, though the perturbed old patriot 
had to be borne, swathed in bandages, upon men's 
shoulders up the stairs, to be " received with grim 
courtesy." 



It is a conjecture not without much support that 
Mr. Wilson has deliberately modeled himself after 
what he conceives to be the character of Washing- 
ton. Certainly he has written of no other American 
with the enthusiasm with which his biography of the 
first President throbs; and in the eulogy of qualities 
with which he credited Washington, it is often clear 
that he is praising especially those which he has him- 
self studied to display, such as aloofness, dignity and 
imperiousness. There are, of course, sides of 
Washington's character that are not so much as 
hinted at in Mr. Wilson's story; facts of the most 
vital nature that are never given even passing men- 
tion. There are here, on the other hand, not a few 

75 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

statements made as if of fact, for which it would 
probably be impossible to adduce document or even 
tradition. I know, for instance, of no record that 
Washington ever " longed to be quit of the 

NARROW LIFE OF THE COLO-NIES AND TO STRETCH 
HIMSELF FOR A LITTLE UPON THE BROAD ENGLISH 
STAGE AT home " (page 1 1 2). Washington would 
hardly have called England " home." 

One evening — it was when the Presidency was 
beginning to loom before him — Mr. Wilson took 
down a volume of Wordsworth and read to his 
biographer — read with feeling, as the best expres- 
sion of his ideal of human life, The Character of the 
Happy Warrior. It was with the quotation of this 
poem that Mr. Wilson had concluded his Life of 
Washington. On another occasion, commenting on 
the curious part the number thirteen had played in 
his own life, he mentioned to his biographer the cir- 
cumstance that the name, WOODROW WILSON, 
like that of GEO. WASHINGTON, contained thir- 
teen letters. 

It is nothing more than what every biographer 
does if the author of this romantic " Life ' has 
projected his own prepossessions and desires into his 
conception of the career of his hero. Only, Mr. 
Wilson would be more likely than another to do 
this, because his book, like all his " historical " 
work, is, to so very large degree indeed, subjective. 

76 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

It is but slightly encumbered with facts. Hence the 
opportunity it affords for self-expression. The 
writer of a biography is not the actor, and is not 
responsible for the acts or scenes he describes. He 
does, however, reveal himself in his emphasis and his 
omissions. In a book like this we see the author 
vicariously living the story, and shading it according 
to his disposition. George Washington is one long 
eulogy of the aristocratic virtues, a profession of 
affection for what the writer conceives to be the cul- 
ture of an elder time. 



But the point of chief importance for the purely 
literary explorer is perhaps that Mr. Wilson's ad- 
miration for the past and its culture is set forth in a 
style singularly appropriate for its celebration. 

The related fact which we approach is that, though 
Mr. Wilson never again had so congenial a subject 
as his legendary Washington, he continued and he 
continues to employ an idiom taught and affected by 
aristocracy. 



It would scarcely be worth while, for the purposes 
of this merely slight and suggestive investigation, to 
delve very deeply into the question of the way and 
the time in which Mr. Wilson's mannerisms suc- 

77 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

ceeded in enslaving his thought. We have seen them 
dangerously triumphing already in George Washing- 
ton, 1896. Another book published that year, 
though in truth written earlier — it was a collection 
of essays — Mere Literature, contains few marks of 
distinction beyond the indulgence of the pedantic 
11 'Tis " and " 'Twas," an idiom which had orna- 
mented most of the three hundred pages of his 
Washington. 

The next ten years were unfruitful in books. It 
was only after having attained the presidency of 
Princeton University that Mr. Wilson gave to the 
world the finished production of a dozen years of 
meditation and preparation in the form of a bacca- 
laureate address delivered in June, 1908. It has 
been beautifully published in an expensive brochure, 
entitled The Free Life. 

Addressing the graduates before him, the Presi- 
dent of Princeton said: 

u In a very real sense, therefore, you are at the threshold of 
life and this is the day of special counsel, when we ask our- 
selves ... It may seem strange and futile counsel to give 
to a company of young men . . . but the counsel of the 
words I have quoted is no counsel of presumption. It is a 
mere counsel of integrity." 

In the course of this doubtless eloquent, and cer- 

78 



ARISTOCRATIC AFFECTATIONS 

tainly beautifully printed, baccalaureate, President 
Wilson seems to have for a period vacillated in his 
devotion between the beauties of " counsel " and 
the charms of two other candidates for his favor, 
namely, " fountains " and " transformation." 

" Fountains " recurs nearly a hundred times during 
the address; it is employed four times on the double 
page 8-9, and five times among the hundred words 
of page 11. Thus: 

11 These fountains have always been about you . . . some 
of them are the fountains of learning. . . . And so the foun- 
tains of learning become the fountains of perpetual youth. 
The fountains of learning are not the only fountains of per- 
petual youth and renewal. . . . There are the fountains of 
friendship. . . . Whether we have resorted to the fountains 
of learning or not, we have known the refreshment of the 
sweet fountains of friendship." 

Skipping a double page, one finds that he has to 
face " fountains " five times on pages 14 and 15, 
of 1 10 words each. Thus: 

" Here are the fountains of real renewal. . . . Whether 
we taste it in the fountains of learning or of friendship. . . . 
To one deep fountain of revelation and renewal few of you, 
I take it for granted, have had access yet, — I mean the 
fountain of sorrow ... a fountain . . ." 

Abandoning " fountains," the Princetonian Presi- 

79 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

dent laid the floral wreath of the remainder of his 
address at the feet of " transformation." In the 
edition de luxe, in the sixty words at the bottom of 
page 19, "transformation" and " transform " are 
invoked six times : 

Be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind. 
This transformation is no apotheosis. It is no changing of 
men into angels, no transmutation of common flesh into stuff 
of immortality. It is a transformation effected by the re- 
newing of your minds, a transformation of attitude and mo- 
tive, of purpose, of point of view. It is the transformation 
effected in . . ." 

On the next page and a half, " transformation " is 
employed only nine times. 

This in the year 1908. We can scarcely longer 
close our eyes to the fact that Mr. Wilson's easy 
surrender to sound has become a habit demanding 
investigation. 



80 



Ill 

LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

WE may now go on, I think, for awhile, with- 
out the preciosity of constant reference 
to document and page. Later chapters 
will examine particular speeches in detail, and cite 
from them examples of all the various species of 
verbal peculiarity which it is the purpose of the next 
hundred pages or so to illustrate and classify. The 
publisher will desire to make these pages fair to 
the eye, I hope, and it would be a pity to embarrass 
him with a lot of foot-notes. The passages quoted 
are taken at random from note-books filled with hun- 
dreds each of its kind. Only, therefore, where some 
quotation appears to be of an exceptionally surpris- 
ing nature will the page be burdened with a refer- 
ence. 

The argument passes to the juncture where atten- 
tion may be invited to the extraordinary domination 
exercised over Mr. Wilson's style by a system of 
favorite verbal formulae. We shall, before we are 
through, consider them under various aspects; we 
shall ask whether they are recommended by careless- 

81 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

ness of expression, or laziness of thought, by con- 
tempt for popular apprehension, by physical or men- 
tal fatigue, by the compelling influence of contend- 
ing inner impulses, resolved in (perhaps illogical) 
compromise, by reverence for stately pedantic usage; 
or by more elusive considerations which we shall 
have to examine as possibly related to the infantile 
or savage outlook on the world, indicative of a re- 
trogression into unconscious primitive or abnormal 
mental life — an outlook in which words appear as 
magic symbols, rather than as rational and definite 
ideographs; — or by several, or all, of these causes 
in combination. It ought to be unnecessary to say 
that to state the possible explanations is not to make 
choice among them. What we have now to do is to 
become acquainted with the phenomena to be ex- 
plained. 



Take the word " processes! 1 

Anything, everything, under Heaven, may be re- 
garded as a process — an election, a bean feast, the 
incubation of measles, the operation of railroads, the 
revolutions of the heavenly spheres, the digestion of 
man, and the passionate paradoxes of history. Each 
of them may also with equal propriety be called a 
" thing " — the word " thing " being the ordinary 
lazy avoidance of accuracy of thought, while " proc- 

82 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

ess," promiscuously used, is a more aristocratic pos- 
ture of indolence or vagueness of thought. 

Mr. Wilson employs " thing " very often, indeed; 
but he prefers "processes," or even "enterprise." 
The two latter are of Latin derivation, and, em- 
ployed in an etymological, scholastic, and technical 
sense, they more readily suggest a recondite mean- 
ing, which the shorter and plainer Anglo-Saxon 
word fails to reflect. 

" Process " is indeed a noble word. One of the 
greatest of the early Greek theologians sixteen cen- 
turies ago wrote of God as a Divine Process; but 
Origen reserved this word for the operations which 
(it was his noble conception) explained and vivified 
to human perception the unique constitution of the 
divine Source of all life; Origen was not so enamored 
of the word that he tacked it on to everything else 
under heaven. It is because the word " process " is 
so noble and of such historic significance that it is 
not pleasant to see it manhandled. In how many in- 
stances (of which the following, turned up in less 
than ten minutes' glance at a few Wilsonian writings, 
are merely typical), would not the words "meth- 
ods," " activities," " movements," or the like, be far 
more germane, genuine, appropriate, and accurate: 

11 The free intercourse of nations is of the essence of the 
process of peace." 

83 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

11 We are now beginning the processes which will some day 

require another memorial." 

" All we can do is to mediate the process of change." 

" The year has been crowded with great processes." 

" It became evident that some part of Government itself 

would be brought to a stand-still by the processes of the Vir- 
ginia resolution." 

" The ordinary processes of private initiative will not . . ." 
" Nobody must interrupt the processes of our energy ; 

nobody has a right to stop the processes of labor." 

" We see in international law the moral processes by 

which law itself came into existence. . . . The processes of 

international law are the slow processes by which opinion 

works its will." 

". . . the great processes by which the war was pushed 

forward." 

". . . liberate and quicken the processes of our national 

genius." 

". . . humanize every process of our common life." 

". . . square every process of our national life with . . ." 

". . . balance the claims of property against the processes 

of liberty." 

". . . if children be not shielded from the consequences of 

great social processes, which they cannot alter, control, or 

singly cope with." 

Let us not quit this matter of Mr. Wilson's " proc- 
esses " until we have got quite clearly in mind its 
significance. The illustrations adduced above might 
easily be multiplied a thousand-fold; they will be 

84 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

added to, I fear, ad nauseam, on pages further along. 

The word " process " and its plural, " processes," 
are excellent words, comprehensive and capable of 
many, and diverse, interpretations. Mr. Wilson 
employs " process " or " processes " to describe most 
of the objects and actions which can possibly be 
brought within the embrace of these words; when 
his mind encounters an idea, swimming dimly into 
its sphere, he forthwith claps upon it the lulling 
label, the magic cryptogram. 

And as to those objects, actions, movements, en- 
ergies, which naturally, or by long consideration, are 
distinguishable as " processes," of how many of them 
can it be said, when they present themselves in the 
course of an article by Mr. Wilson, that it contrib- 
utes to the thought to refer to them in their specific 
character of " processes "? 

A bean-feast, the measles, or a bankers' trust, is 
indeed a " process," if you care to stop and think 
about it; but it is not always, nor indeed is it very 
often, necessary to call any of these important cos- 
mic facts up before the mind in its aspect of a " proc- 
ess." It is rarely that any of these facts obtrudes 
itself upon the mind in the special character of a 
" process." For ordinary purposes ordinary facts 
appeal to our attention in one or another of their 
more obvious, more homely, more prosaic, attri- 
butes. If there were any evidence that Mr. Wilson's 

85 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

bent of mind is such that he must forsooth regard 
everything in the philosophic light of a flux; must 
invariably contemplate business, politics and the 
human digestion, sub specie processionalis, nothing 
could be said. Myself, I can recognize no such evi- 
dence. There may be writ on the entablatures of 
the portal of Mr. Wilson's brain the motto, vravra pd 
km 6v§ev fxivat.; Hegel's Zuriickkehren and Negation 
der negation may whisper in his ear by day and by 
night the high philosophy of "becoming;" haunt- 
ing echoes of De Principiis, and memories of the 
gorgeous tragedies which baptized in blood the 
sacred postulate of the procession of the Holy 
Ghost, may visit him; the ensanguined spooks of 
Alcuin and Theodulf and Byzantine patriarchs and 
emperors may sit upon his pillow — yet, still, I can- 
not understand why it is necessary for Mr. Wilson 
to inform Congress that children should be shielded 
from social " processes " which they cannot singly 
cope with. 

The conclusion may be wrong, but it is enforced 
by considerations too tedious here further to enter 
into, that the adoption and absorption of this par- 
ticular word into the Wilson vocabulary was unre- 
lated to any special intellectual experience, but was 
a mere appropriation from some casual source, made 
much after the fashion of the leggy little lady who 
comes home from boarding-school at Christmas time 

86 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

and amazes papa and mama by frequently interpolat- 
ing, in the midst of her still not completely reformed 
verbal code, the expression: "One does, doesn't 
one?' The flapper continues in ignorance of all 
adjectives except perhaps " nice," " swell," and 
11 great." Next term she will probably eschew these 
simplicities, and everything then will be " so inter- 
esting," " so genuine," " if you know what I mean." 
Next year, she will graduate into " living one's own 
life," " expressing one's self ' and possibly into 
" complexes." 

Mr. Wilson is no fickle school-girl. For half a 
century he has remained faithful to " processes," as 
he still is to " counsel " and " quick." Most of the 
time when he has spoken of " processes," the word 
has simply sprung into his mouth without troubling 
to take the trip via the brain. In the few remaining 
cases, the accurate collocation of letters would spell 
" activities," sometimes " performances " or 
" achievements," " deeds," u currents " or " move- 
ments," " accomplishments " or " methods." These 
words, however, do not exist in Mr. Wilson's lexi- 
con. They bear no special scholastic connotation, 
possess no honorific value. 



But the favorite object of Mr. Wilson's affection 
is " counsel." This alluring vocable occupies the 

87 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

summit of the Wilsonian verbal hierarchy. There is 
a subordinate priesthood of ceremonial words like 
11 quick," u handsome," " adjustment," " coordina- 
tion," " visions," and " voices." " Processes," in- 
deed, is consecrated to peculiarly wide and holy of- 
fices. But " counsel " is clothed with plenary mysti- 
cal powers. Nevertheless, " counsel " lives no life 
of ease. It " needs must " make its appearance, like 
such a vulgar thing as a cuckoo out of one of those 
ingenious Swiss clocks, every quarter of an hour or 
so. No substitute, no vicar-general, can take its 
place. " Advice " would never do — though " ad- 
vice " is what it usually means, when it means any- 
thing in particular. " Consultation " could never 
fill the bill, when " consultation " is meant. " Ex- 
change of ideas " carries the taint of commercial sug- 
gestion. u Conversation " is, of course, altogether 
too vulgar ever to be used by the learned in referring 
to conversation. " Deliberation " and " debate " 
lack the tang of distinction. So it must run thus : 

'" The four years which have elapsed since last I stood in 
this place have been crowded with counsel and action . . ." 
11 Common counsel is not jumbled counsel. There is 
often common counsel in the committee rooms of the House, 
but there is never common counsel on the floor of the House 
itself. It goes without saying that the combined acts of a 
Senate and a House are not a product of common counsel." 
" Common counsel is not aggregate counsel" 

88 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

" A common purpose can be formed only by the slow proc- 
esses of common counsel." 

" The leaders of the Senate deal in all counsel with the 
other chamber with regard to legislative business with this 
single leader. ,, 

" Open counsel is of the essence of power." 

" The free peoples of the world have wrought out a plan 
by which they may remain united in a free partnership of 
intimate counsel to promote the cause of justice and liberty 
through the beneficent processes of peace and the accords of a 
liberal policy. It is within the choice of thoughtful men of 
every nation to enrich the peace by their counsel." 

" The war could have come only as it did, suddenly and 
out of secret counsels, without any of the deliberate move- 
ments of counsel . . . our own contribution to the counsel 
might have averted the struggle." 

" It has ... set criminal intrigues afoot against our na- 
tional unity of counsel." 

" I esteem it a great honor to be thus admitted to your 
public counsels." 

11 There is no reason why we should not take our part in 
counsel on this great theme." 

" I have had a great deal more resistance of counsel when 
I tried." 

" I am happy to draw apart with you to this quiet place of 
old counsel." 

Was Washington's tomb or Mt. Vernon, itself, 
ever, particularly, a place of old counsel? 

In Mr. Wilson's vocabulary there is no such word 

8 9 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

as " oo-u-n-c-i-1." Mr. Wilson's (unedited) writ- 
ings abound in sentences like these: 

I European politics straightway entered their counsels" 

" George (Washington^ greatly struck his lordship's 
fancy, as he did that of all capable men, as a daring lad in 
hunt and a sober lad in counsel." 

" It (the French Revolution) was hurried on, not by 
statesmen like those who had presided in the counsels of 
America." 

". . . an armed body of men in counsel." 

Within the compass of twelve hundred words of 
his oration at the cemetery at Suresnes, May 30, 
19 19, Mr. Wilson used the mystic word " counsel " 
fourteen times. The speech was weirdly reminis- 
cent of another address, penciled on a torn envelope 
and spoken by another President, on the field of 
Gettysburg in 1863: "It is for us, the living, 
rather, to be here dedicated to the great task remain- 
ing before us — that from these honored dead we 
take increased devotion to that cause for which they 
gave the last full measure of devotion." Some of 
the phrases of the later oration ran: 

" It is our privilege and our high duty to consecrate our- 
selves afresh to the objects for which they fought . . ." 

II It is for us, who are civilized, to . . ." 

". . . utmost to show their devotion. . . ." 

90 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

But fancy Lincoln at Gettysburg saying of the dead 
there : 

" The thing that these men left us, though they did not 
in their counsels conceive it, is the great instrument which 
we have just erected. . . . They died to bring the counsels 
of men together. . . . There is something better, if possible, 
that a man can give than his life, and that is ... to resist 
counsels that are hard to resist. . . . The nation that should 
now fling out of the common concord of counsel would be- 
tray. . . ." 

What did the dough-boys who were being ad- 
dressed know about the " instrument " that was be- 
ing " erected "? What comfort was it for them to 
hear that their dead bunkies had died for something 
which they had " not in their counsels conceived " ; 
to hear about the " common counsel of concord''? 
" Call for the cocoa with the Cupid on the can " is in- 
telligible. Conceiving in counsels the common con- 
cord of counsel is equally titillating, but lacks any 
content of objective thought. 

The preceding chapter quoted from George 
Washington, among other examples of the cryptic 
employment of " counsel," the words: 

". . . had given his whole mind to every process of dif- 
ficult counsel." 

Whatever in the world is a " process of difficult 

91 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

counsel"? With the most amiable disposition, the 
most ready eagerness, to glimpse the shadow of the 
ghost of a hint of a meaning — it escapes. These 
two pages were written in the year 1895, and they 
appear in a book dedicated to a comrade " of coun- 
sel" For more than a quarter of a century the 
cryptogram has continued to be an elusive mystery. 
Perhaps the patient pursuer may contrive to capture 
something of its meaning in the shadows of the cor- 
ridors of this palatial passage of July 10, 1916: 

" It seemed wise to substitute for the hard processes of the 
law, the milder and more helpful processes of counsel. That 
is the reason the Federal Trade Commission was established 
— so that men would have some place where they could take 
counsel as to what the law was and what the law permitted; 
and also take counsel as to whether the law itself was right. 
The processes of counsel are only the processes of accommo- 
dation, not the processes of punishment. Punishment re- 
tards, but it does not lift up. Punishment impedes, but it 
does not improve. Therefore, we ought to substitute for 
the harsh processes of law the milder and gentler and more 
helpful processes of counsel. (White House pamphlet, 
July 10, 19 16.) 



This passage contains 115 words; but " the," 
" or," " to," " and," " fort," " bit," " is," " was," 
" are," " that," and the like account for fifty-five. 
The remaining words indicative of thought number 

92 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

sixty, among them " counsel " occurring five times 
and " processes " seven times. 



" Mr. Dick " probably seldom yielded to his ruling 
passion to the extent of introducing King Charles' 
head twice in every line of ten words. Everybody 
remembers, and everybody loves, " Mr. Dick." He 
is one of the favorite mattoids in English literature. 
Miss Betsy Trotwood had the right idea about verbal 
obsessions. Mr. Dick's interesting habit of insist- 
ing upon the appearance of King Charles' head in 
most of his written and spoken sentences Miss Trot- 
wood thus explained: 

1 That's his allegorical way of expressing it. That's the 
figure, or the simile, or whatever it's called, which he chooses 
to use. And why shouldn't he, if he thinks proper? " 

" I said : ' Certainly, Aunt.' " 

" It's not a business-like way of speaking," said my aunt, 
"nor a worldly way. I am aware of that; and that's the 
reason why I insist upon it, that there shan't be a word about 
it in his Memorial." 

" Is it a Memorial about his own history that he is writing, 
Aunt?" 

" Yes, child," said my aunt, rubbing her nose again. " He 
is memorializing the Lord Chancellor, or the Lord Somebody 
or other — one of those people, at all events, who are paid 
to be memorialized — about his affairs. I suppose it will go 
in, one of these days. He hasn't been able to draw it up yet, 

93 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

without introducing that mode of expression, but it don't 
signify; it keeps him employed." 

Mr. Dick had been for upwards of ten years en- 
deavoring to keep King Charles' head out of the 
Memorial. But, perhaps, as Miss Trotwood sug- 
gested, it didn't signify. Perhaps it doesn't signify 
that Mr. Wilson for fifty years has apparently not 
been endeavoring to keep " processes " and " coun- 
sel " out of his Memorials. 

Perhaps it doesn't signify that, when a President, 
who seeks to impose upon his country a revolutionary 
world-compact and is met by a rebellious Senate with 
a score of practical questions of concrete policy 
which Senators importunately insist mean life or 
death to the institutions which they hold dear — 
perhaps it doesn't signify that this President has so 
slight comprehension of the passionate urgency of 
the crisis, that he can smilingly, soothingly, murmur: 
" All we need is to clarify counsel/' Is this 
humor, or is it deliberate scorn of popular intelli- 
gence, or is it — a clinic picture of a peculiarly ob- 
stinate obsession? 



The pedantic addiction, which we are now observ- 
ing, is, of course, closely related to the aristocratic 
affectation, which we noticed in the last chapter. 

We have seen Mr. Wilson exhibit his admiration 

94 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

for the socially select in rather crude sycophancy; 
we now see him assume and exhibit the more recon- 
dite marks of membership in the leisure class. 



Society has found so ineradicable the mass instinct 
of reverence for those agents of the ruling and ex- 
ploiting class who can demonstrate their own repre- 
sentative superiority to the ordinary human lot of 
productive toil by speaking and writing an orna- 
mental language, that, even to this day, practically 
all men regard complacently the existence of a fra- 
ternity detached from materialistic concerns, pro- 
fessionally practicing an idiom which advertises its 
detachment. 

Indeed, it would not be untruthful to say that, 
while many other of the insignia of leisurely superior- 
ity had fallen into desuetude, and because they have, 
the honorific value of recondite speech has increased. 
A professional " scholar " cannot nowadays parade 
in cap, gown and hood, outside the halls and campus, 
but he can carry with him everywhere the more or 
less subtle suggestion in his speech of his elevation 
above vulgar affairs. 

The learned phratry as it survives to-day is, of 
course, no longer a caste of priests employed in the 
definite service of a supernatural monarch whose 
power and glory it is desirable to impress upon the 

95 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

masses; it has shed its original definite duties, but it 
retains many of its congenital characteristics, such as 
addiction to titles, degrees of rank, antique and en- 
cumbering vestments, ritualistic functions, and, espe- 
cially, devotion to a special speech. Even when the 
original character of " learning " has been otherwise 
almost obliterated, this last survival persists, in testi- 
mony to its origin in the barbarian epoch and to its 
enduring sentimental devotion to the leisure class 
culture, with its craving for distinctions and its 
fondness for the display of non-utilitarian accomplish- 
ments. The Methodist minister's uniform has been 
reduced to a white neck-tie, but he is faithful to the 
special diction by which the ministry put into evi- 
dence their unique familiarity with supernatural 
affairs and their leisured* training in modes of speech 
which the vulgar and busy have unfortunately had 
no opportunity to acquire. The physician has ceased 
to be the wizard and enchanter, specially patronized 
by the tribal chiefs and long indistinguishable from 
the priest, but he continues to write his prescriptions 
in bastard Latin. The lawyer (at least in America) 
has laid aside his horse-hair wig and gown, but 
his learned circumlocutions and well-nigh endless 
repetitions continue to weigh down the records 
with testimony of the desirability of maintaining, 
for the performance of legal " justice," a guild 
of experts in musty phraseology — time-consum- 

9 6 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

ing, totally unnecessary, but magically impressive. 

It surely does not require to be pointed out that 
the habit of slang, vulgar or learned, would be fatal 
to precision of thought, even if it did not have its 
seat in incapacity or indisposition for precise thought. 

The point is, of course, not that any reprobative 
criticism could possibly attach to the employment of 
a good word of learned historic or symbolic meaning 
when the turn of thought actually calls for it, any 
more than there could to the use of a racy idiom of 
vulgar slang. This is precisely what the discriminat- 
ing brain, the informed intelligence, the sensitive ear, 
and the educated pen, are for. The point is, that 
the promiscuous, indolent, incorrect, inaccurate, and 
tiresome recourse to a few pompous words borrowed 
from half-forgotten scholasticism neither represents 
nor allows clear, differentiated, exact and thorough 
thinking. 

More than once, indeed, Mr. Wilson is express in 
his satisfaction with the hazy and inconclusive. 
Rome and England are held up in his book, The 
State, as the patterns of political success. " Nei- 
ther," he explains, " has been too curious in examin- 
ing the cause of its success, or in working out the 
logical consequences of its practice." No logic, if 
you please, gentlemen, is often Mr. Wilson's de- 
clared principle. " Above all, neither Rome nor 
England has suffered any taint of thoroughness to 

97 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

attach itself to its political methods." (The State, 
page 578.) 

Mr. Wilson follows the precept which he extols; 
no taint of thoroughness has been suffered to attach 
itself to his methods. As teacher of history, and 
writer of books on historical subjects, he is compla- 
cent in the most superficial narrative, and entirely 
innocent of any design to penetrate those deeper 
causes and meanings which engross the true histor- 
ians. As a political philosopher, he is of course the 
merest purveyor of platitude, never pretending to an 
original theory, nor advancing a novel principle. 
The ready-made, standardized and long-accredited, 
suffice him. He counts as the date of the extreme po- 
litical advance of his life the day when Mr. U'ren 
converted him to belief in the Initiative and Refer- 
endum. He would regard it as no reflection what- 
ever upon his scholarship to assert that he never en- 
tertained certainly, probably never conceived, an 
original idea on any subject. The employment of 
archaic symbols instead of exact words does not con- 
duce to original thought; it forbids it. But that, of 
course, would go without saying. What is more un- 
fortunate perhaps is that even in his absorption of 
the ideas of others, no taint of thoroughness is per- 
mitted to obtrude. 

There is no attempt at smartness in this remark. 
It is the fact, quite free from all color of even gentle 

98 






LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

derision, quite literally the fact, that Mr. Wilson, 
constitutionally does not approve or admit thorough- 
ness. He will not and cannot exact of his mind ex- 
haustive performance. 



Though Mr. Wilson's chief formulas are built 
around the two faithful words, " counsel " and 
" process," he does not let these Gold Dust Twins 
do all the work. To their aid he summons " voices," 
" visions," "concert," "hearts," "tides," "foun- 
tains," " dawn," " uplands," " stuff," " light," " air," 
" minds," " breath," " adjustment," " enterprise," 
" essence," " coordination," " polity," " murmur," 
"privilege," "role," "bred," "fling," "assess," 
" appraise," *" compound," " interpret," " refresh 
and renew," " awaken," " adjourn," " handsome," 
" quick," " provident," " great," " authentic," " fa- 
miliar," " gracious," " generous," " frank," and a 
few more verbal retainers. Without the four first 
enumerated, no chapter or speech of Mr. Wilson's 
is complete. Nodding forgetfulness never neglects 
them. 

These all be excellent words. Seldom does Mr. 
Wilson by any inadvertence employ one of them in 
its simple, natural sense. He is never talking about 
real voices, or fountains, or tides, or concerts; but al- 
ways about things which he represents as voices or 

99 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

concerts or tides or fountains — and anything may 
be any one of these things, and everything is likely to 
be at one time or another all of these things, in Mr. 
Wilson's books. It is not that Mr. Wilson is talking 
about anything being really flung or awakened or ad- 
journed, but that he wishes to convey some more or 
less vague impression of motion by the figurative 
suggestion of these verbs. His adjectives and ad- 
verbs he may perhaps occasionally and grudgingly 
ask for a literal meaning, but they are such adjec- 
tives and adverbs as connote large tracts of inclu- 
sion, rather than definition. " Great " is his most 
often employed adjective. It occurs, for instance, 
ten times on the first full page of the compilation of 
his Addresses and Messages. You can call almost 
anything " great." The word, however, is of no 
special repute; it has no special aristocratic flavor, 
carries no reminiscence of learning, wields no magic 
suggestion. " Quick " is better, if you are careful 
never to let it have its common vulgar meaning. 

". . . communities quick with a character and purpose of 
their own." 

" our Congressional annals have not been quickened by- 
many dramatic incidents." 

" Great communities quick with industry. . . ." 

". . . the quick and various life. . . ." 

". . . the quick principles of the people." 

"... a farewell address quick with solemn eloquence." 

IOO 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

" This nomination comes to me quick with a sense of obli- 
gation." 

M This nomination comes to me quick with a sense 
of obligation." It is a stimulating sentence. It 
conveys no definite idea, of course. It is a marvel of 
Rosicrucian mystification, a feat in the occult seldom 
surpassed by Mr. Wilson himself; its meaning can 
never be guessed, for it can have none. The treas- 
ure of its import is not only inaccessible, but non- 
existent; it is an empty arcanum. 

" Handsome," in a sense remote from that in 
which it is ordinarily understood, is one of Mr. Wil- 
son's favorites. Subjects as far apart as a sum of 
money, a speech, an outlook, a process, an enterprise, 
and many devious " things " of various categories, 
are called " handsome." In every case the adjec- 
tive, for any definite purpose, had better have been 
another one. Anything agreeable to the eye or the 
judgment, anything generous or proper is, of course, 
11 handsome," and the word can be stretched a long 
way. The criticism is that to stretch it a long way 
too often is to confess mental laziness, or hesitation. 
A school-girl is no more to be condemned for de- 
scribing most of the things within the compass of her 
experience as " nice " or " wonderful " or " grand," 
than is a famous writer for making too many of them 
" handsome." The broad use of the last word 

IOI 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

alone, however, is uncommon and carries with it a 
flavor of polite erudition (" nice," in point of fact is 
far more interesting etymologically) . The addic- 
tion is exhibited in the following excerpt, which ex- 
hibits also, in pronounced form, Mr. Wilson's ser- 
vility to the unmeaning refrain — a curiosity which 
we shall have to notice at some length later : 

11 Boasting is a very unhandsome thing. Advancing en- 
terprise is a very handsome thing, but to exaggerate local 
merits is not a particularly handsome thing or (nor) a par- 
ticularly intelligent thing. . . . When peace is as handsome 
as war, there will be no war." 

An affectation, rather than an addiction, is Mr. 
Wilson's " essence." He can get along perfectly 
well without it, and does, in most of his essays and 
addresses. The word is a precise counterpart, in its 
philosophic cast, of " progress " ; but it has not be- 
come for our author a necessity, like its fellow. In- 
deed it is seldom used alone for its own sake, but al- 
most always merely as part of the special recondite 
phrase — " of the essence of." 

". . . make intimate approach to the very essence of con- 
stitutional government; but we approach that essence still 
more intimately when . . ." 

". . . understandings regarded as of the very essence of 
their life." 

1 02 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

" It is of the essence of a constitutional government that its 
people should think straight." 

" Agitation is of the essence of a constitutional system." 
" Open counsel is of the essence of power." 



Attention was drawn in an earlier chapter to the 
fact that Mr. Wilson was much given to prefaces. 
His favorite prolegomenous phrases include : 

11 1 am privileged to say that . . ." 

" I am bound to say that . . ." 

" I undertake in all candor to say that . . ." 

" I need not tell you that . . ." 

" I take it for granted that . . ." 

" I welcome the opportunity and the occasion to say 
that . . ." 

" I particularly invite your attention to the circumstance 
that . . ." 

" I shall take the liberty of saying that . . ." 

" I hesitate to venture " to say that — 

" I take it for granted that . . ." 

" I dare say " that — 

" I am sure it is not necessary for me to remind you 
that . . ." 

" I once more take the liberty of recommending that . . ." 

" I have only to suggest that . . ." 

" Will you not permit me once more to say that . . ." 

11 I count myself particularly fortunate in being able to 
say that . . ." 

103 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" I take the liberty of saying that . . ." 

" I venture to say that . . ." 

" There is profound truth in the saying that . . ." 

" It goes without saying that . . ." 

If it goes without saying, why say it? 

Before me lies a copy of a brief official note by the 
President. Five of its six short paragraphs respec- 
tively begin: 

" I feel constrained to say that . . ." 

" I feel it due to perfect frankness to say that . . ." 

" I suggest that . . ." 

" Permit me to answer by saying that . . " 

" I can only express the confident opinion that . . ." 

There are several observations to be made con- 
cerning this habit. First: it is a symptom and in 
part a result of mental fatigue, or of impeded cere- 
bration. A mind in good form and eager for the 
jump, does not need a running start and a spring- 
board. The athlete does not require a cocktail. 
These prefaces are, ninety-nine cases in a hundred, a 
total waste of breath, so far as any contribution to 
the meaning is concerned. They serve, however, to 
fill the time until the brain has resumed function- 
ing or has resolved its difficulties. Vulgar persons 
of sluggish minds often have each but a single time- 
killer, such as — " If you know what I mean," or 

104 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

" you understand," or " I mean to say." The 
scholarly gentleman with the same affliction keeps a 
menagerie of time-killers. 

The addict to this practice no doubt finds a stimu- 
lant, as well as a momentary relaxation, in his for- 
mula. But the habit of taking a rest and consum- 
ing a stimulant is one which grows upon the men 
who indulge it. It easily becomes a most pernicious 
vice. The verbal cocktail has ruined many a fair 
young life. , 

But the learned prologue is significant of leisure 
and of aristocracy. This not only because it wastes 
time at each repetition, but also because it demon- 
strates to the audience that the speaker has all his 
life wasted time in acquiring the habit of circumlocu- 
tion and in familiarizing himself with recondite and 
elegant modes of expression. It thus doubly puts 
into evidence the honorable position occupied by the 
speaker: he is a person of leisure who has been free 
in the past to engage in non-productive wasteful ges- 
tures, is to-day free to do so, and, not only so, but is 
of such dignity that he expects his auditors to engage 
in the non-productive, wasteful gesture of listening 
to his elegant and unnecessary phrases — which the 
auditors are always willing to do, with a gratified 
sense of their own at least momentary association 
with easeful and learned aristocracy. There is al- 
most nothing the populace likes more; it will admire 

105 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

the baldest style if a sufficient number of sentences 
begin : " I venture to put it as an observation which 
all known experience confirms that," — grass is 
green. " I submit in all candor that " — twice two 
is four. 

The sentence-preface, like all affectations of polite 
letters, belongs in the category of conspicuous con- 
sumption, and is of quite special honorific value in 
the scheme of predatory life. It is in this little book 
assumed that it is unnecessary to argue what Mr. 
Veblen x twenty years ago made clear — that the 
leisure-class culture, which maintains even to-day in 
human society, ranks of warriors, priests, sporting- 
men, parasites and delinquents, practices battle, re- 
ligion and games, and believes in prowess, prayer 
and luck, is a survival of the savage or infantile 
mind, and is not motivated by reason. At every 
point where we may pursue to their basis the pe- 
culiar phenomena of Mr. Wilson's style we shall be, 
it seems, in danger of coming upon irrationality. 



Examples adduced in a preceding chapter initiated 
us into recognition of Mr. Wilson's fondness for set 
phrases. These are really not very many in number, 
but to the list of those that could be made forms 

1 The Theory of the Leisure Class. Published by B. W. Huebsch, 
New York. 

106 






LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

with which we are already acquainted might be 
added, as among the more conspicuous addictions : 

in touch with 
shot through with 
all fours with 
along the line 
in the last analysis 
in respect of 

Mr. Wilson, it is to be noted, is unaware that 
repetition ever becomes tiresome. For many years, 
for instance, he has been accustomed to say that his 
is a " one-track mind." He is fond of talking about 
" matching minds." When he desires to state that 
he has not arrived at an opinion, his invariable for- 
mula is " My mind is to let." To express mild dis- 
trust, he says: " I ha'e my doots." They are ad- 
mirable phrases, but those who are associated with 
him are apt to grow rather weary of them. He is 
much given in private to the repetition of two or 
three limericks. He never tires of them; acquaint- 
ances do. 

Is this conservatism, indolence, fatigue, inhibi- 
tion, mere obliviousness to the repeated assaults of 
sound? Has it some relation to resurging pulses, 
tides and echoes? Monotony is not monotonous to 
Mr. Wilson. His mind is apparently not of the or- 
der which requires, or welcomes, new ideas or even 

107 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

new forms of expression for old ideas. The tried 
and familiar, in substance and in sound, suffices. 
Contented himself with the same thoughts, and find- 
ing unabating pleasure in their expression in the same 
phrases during forty years, Mr. Wilson is aware of 
no reason why his readers and hearers should desire 
new ones. As a matter of fact, they do not. " The 
people " have many virtues, but they are tormented 
by no Athenian eagerness for novel thoughts. They 
understand and applaud the commonplace, and sus- 
pect any would-be leader who puzzles them with orig- 
inal ideas. In many respects, Mr. Wilson's mental 
processes run quite wonderfully (in another of his lo- 
cutions) " on all fours " with those of the crowd. 
Which may be why it is persuaded that he is a su- 
perior being. 



Mr. Wilson's neologisms would afford a chapter 
precisely of the length of the boy's composition on 
The Snakes of Ireland. " Nothing doing." He is 
abundantly satisfied with words accredited by the 
experience and wisdom of the past. " Hath it not 
been said by them of old time? " His utmost ven- 
ture in the direction of putting new wine into old ver- 
bal bottles was probably one made when he seems to 
have been captivated by the possibility of applying 
the financially technical locution " underwrite " to 

108 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

political affairs. The response may have been un- 
sympathetic, or there may have been a scholarly re- 
action against vulgar commercialisms, or the effort to 
incorporate a novel symbol into a long-established 
body of sacred images may have been too exhausting. 
The effort was not repeated. 1 Similar soon-aban- 
doned experiments might be cited — not many. 
There is a little punning now and then: the farmer 
who paged his cows; the invalid who, having used up 
his constitution, was living on his by-laws. 

A figure such as Mr. Wilson has become can speak 
no word that is not instantly and eagerly scanned. 
In the case of a writing man attaining wide renown 
(in his 56th year, presumably having already reached 
the height of his faculties) , there will have been spe- 
cial eagerness to recognize genius, originality and 
power in his utterances. The main locutory contri- 
butions with which Mr. Wilson has aroused atten- 
tion are : 

watchful waiting. 

too proud to fight. 

make the world safe for Democracy. 

break the heart of the world. 

Each is significant of some psychical characteristic 

1 Since this sentence was written, Mr. Wilson has reverted to the 
expression. See page 291. 

IO9 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

of the author, but the list is too meager to detain us 
here. Originality of thought or of diction is no fea- 
ture of Mr. Wilson's genius. 



An affectation which Mr. Wilson never forgets is 
the transposition of " not only " and " not merely " 
from their customary places, thus : 

" She will lend her moral force, not only, but her physical 
force." 

". . . play a part in writing, not only, but in public 
speech." 

" War has interrupted the means of trade, not only, but 
also the processes of production." 

". . . public men, not only, but public opinion." 

° This is the explicit principle of American law not 
only, but of English law also." 

" Every matter of detail not only, but also every minor 
matter of counsel." 

". . . growing stronger and stronger, not only, but grow- 
ing better and better." 

The above examples are few and merely illustra- 
tive ; the practice on Mr. Wilson's part is constant — 
has been, for a quarter of a century, constant and un- 
deviating. I am unable to cite the considerations 
which urge him to this syntax. They may be worthy 
ones. It is difficult to believe them so compelling 
as to make it a matter of principle for the reason to 

no 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

observe the arrangement which he favors, In opposi- 
tion to general usage. He seems to attach impor- 
tance to a certain order, a certain procession of 
words, as if there were necromancy in the sequence. 
A similar belief moves witches to recite the Lord's 
Prayer backward. 

Mr. Wilson invariably says "so long as"; he is 
never, I believe, betrayed into the vulgar " as long 
as." Yet he is innocent of the niceties of " will " 
and " shall," " would " and " should." He might 
have been the well-known foreigner who despair- 
ingly cried from the water : " I will drown ; nobody 
shall help me." 

With meticulous care he invariably writes 
" Scot," " Scottish," " Scotsman," — a practice 
which on one occasion made it necessary to order 
rye. Yet he is often quite at sea as to modern ethno- 
logical distinctions. 1 

It is difficult to discover a principle, but it seems 
not unfair to say that where we find attention to the 
meticulous inures to a reputation for erudition, Mr. 
Wilson has formed the fixed habit of keeping it on 
guard; in matters of ordinary accuracy, he is no 
stickler. Mr. Wilson's famous formula, " open 
covenants, openly arrived at," traverses what used 
to be an imperative precept of the grammarians; the 

1 For recent illustrations see the concluding chapter of this 
book. 

Ill 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

form in which I committed this to memory (irrecon- 
cilable urchin) was : " Never use a preposition to end 
a sentence with." A writer who declares that he is 
" very elated," or " very gratified," or " very 
pleased," instead of " very much elated," or " very 
much gratified," or " very much pleased," forfeits 
forthwith any possible claim to real mastery of the 
scholastic mandates of the language in which he 
writes. This is precisely the complacent claim which 
Mr. Wilson has made from the moment he took up 
his pen. His circumspection is sufficient for his own, 
and for popular, satisfaction, however. 



It is the design of this chapter to move swiftly 
over the surface, calling to mind, briefly in each 
case, the more notable types of addiction and affecta- 
tion exhibited in Mr. Wilson's style, with merely 
such comment as shall suggest their significance in 
the analysis of his mental habits. A few scant para- 
graphs only, therefore, can be allowed for refer- 
ence to the prevalence in the Wilsonian vocabulary of 
words of large content. 

The chief of these words is " thing." It is quite 
natural, if you can't think of any other description 
for the object of your thought, to call it a " thing." 
Only, if your thought is clear and unimpeded, you 

112 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

will think of this object not vaguely as a " thing," 
but definitely as some particular thing, with a spe- 
cial name. My young son, who is discovering the 
fun in a book most of us have forgotten and who 
hopes this book is going to be amusing, too, has, I 
find, annotated the page of notes from which I am 
now transcribing, with the words, " See Tramp 
Abroad, Vol. II, 28." I cannot quite represent page 
28 of Volume II of A Tramp Abroad as having been 
writ by Woodrow Wilson, but in one feature it 
strongly recalls the more serious author's style : 

" It may interest the reader to know how they ' put 
horses to ' on the continent. The man stands up the horses 
on each side of the thing that projects from the front end 
of the wagon, and then throws the tangled mess of gear on 
top of the horses, and passes the thing that goes forward 
through a ring, and hauls it aft, and passes the other thing 
through the other ring and hauls it aft on the other side of 
the horse, opposite to the first one, after crossing them and 
bringing the loose end back, and then buckles the other thing 
underneath the horse, and takes another thing and wraps it 
around the thing I spoke of before, and puts another thing 
over each horse's head, with broad flappers to it to keep the 
dust out of his eyes, and puts the iron thing in his mouth for 
him to grit his teeth on, up hill, and brings the ends of these 
things aft over his back, after buckling another one around 
under his neck to hold his head up, and hitching another 
thing on a thing that goes over his shoulders to keep his 

113 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

head up when he is climbing a hill, and then takes the slack 
of the thing which I mentioned a while ago, and fetches it 
aft and makes it fast to the thing that pulls the wagon, and 
hands the other things up to the driver to steer with. I 
never have buckled up a horse myself, but I do not think we 
do it that way." 

It is when a man has no particular object in his 
thought that he calls the vague presentment which 
he feels he ought to be talking about, but of which 
he has no clear conception and for which, conse- 
quently, no name, a " thing " — hoping, perhaps, that 
the dim glow at the end of his own halting vision 
may, in the intelligence of his readers, brighten into 
some sort or another of substantiality. 

In an address of twelve hundred words before the 
International Law Society, assembled in Paris as I 
write these notes, Mr. Wilson told his hearers that 
international law " had — something behind it"; 
that " the processes of law are processes of slow 
disentanglement from many — things"; that 
" America was ready to do that — thing " which he 
was privileged to call upon it to do; that " the spirit 
of America illustrated — something" He solemnly 
instructed his hearers " not to be afraid of new — 
things, and, at the same time, not to be intolerant of 
old — things" The time has come, the President 
said, to talk of many things; of ships and shoes and 
sealing wax, and cabbages and kings. 

114 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

Another class of words of large and beckoning 
import is headed by " the world " and " America." 
It is assuredly unnecessary to adduce examples; pages 
could be filled; the addiction will instantly be recog- 
nized as a familiar characteristic of the presidential 
style. Mr. Wilson seldom indeed speaks of " the 
earth," " the globe," " the planet," " the universe," 
" the cosmos," or of " man," " mankind," " men," 
" the race of men," " the sons of men," " the human 
race," or " humanity." There is, indeed, no special 
reason why he should, except that he generally means 
either the earth or men. Neither is there apparent 
any special reason why, instead of a discriminating 
variant, he should always say " the world "; no spe- 
cial reason, but perhaps several special considerations 
which derive from motives founded elsewhere than 
in cold reason. 

One of these motives might be, unquestionably is, 
the case of employing on every possible occasion a 
standardized comprehensive word the use of which 
calls for no laborious discrimination. Another mo- 
tive might lie in the reflection that the large stand- 
ardized symbol is safe — commits one to nothing in 
particular — cannot be objected to by any scrupulos- 
ity of the consciousness — starts no doubts. But 
probably more compelling motives are habitual faith 
in and dependence on, the vague and mystical, in 
preference to the definite. 

"5 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

It appears that Mr. Wilson relucts from the fact. 
Its approach is inhibitive on his thought; he flees at 
once to the airy freedom of large words. Before 
he can do with a concrete reality, he must blur its 
outlines and drag it into the twilight of his occult 
phrases. The objective verity disappears, and a 
word takes its place. 

Is it that a sense of reality, or appreciation of the 
duty of factual representation, is lacking? Or is it, 
perhaps, some constitutional indisposition to envis- 
age facts? 

It is no argument against this conclusion that Mr. 
Wilson often denies it. He was at pains to charge 
his biographer to make it clear that he was a man 
that cared for nothing but facts — that any slight 
youthful tendency he might have had towards rhet- 
oric and easy generalization had been thoroughly 
medicined and eradicated at Johns Hopkins by Pro- 
fessors Ely and Adams and the fact-grubbing his- 
torians and economists who were their colleagues. 
And over and over, again and again, he asserts that 
he is the man who is dealing with facts, while the 
mouths of others are filled with theories and senti- 
ments. The following passage is characteristic: 

" I have come to have a great and wholesome respect for 
the facts. I have had to yield to them sometimes before I 
saw them coming, and that has led me to keep a weather eye 
open in order that I may see them coming." 

116 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

The very frequency of his protestations would be 
suspicious, even if we did not have overwhelming 
evidence that it is words, not facts, which constantly 
occupy him. One who is really engrossed with reali- 
ties does not have to protest that he is — it would 
not occur to him to do so, if he were not troubled 
with an unadmitted consciousness that he is not. 



Enough was probably developed in our study of 
George Washington to render unnecessary any fur- 
ther evidence of Mr. Wilson's inordinate affection 
for adjectives. It was an infatuation which has per- 
sisted unabated to this day. My note-book pages of 
citations, from later writings and speeches (they lie 
here ready for use, if needed) are only wearying cat- 
alogues of old friends without new faces. One 
somewhat entertaining addiction which perusal of 
our friend's so far completed words reveal in 
strengthened light is his fondness for coupled ad- 
jectives. In my notes they are collected under the 
description, " Syzygy List." This chapter must pro- 
ceed too rapidly to allow a stop here to examine the 
psychology of the verbal syzygy. Besides, I don't 
understand it. Probably it belongs in a chapter 
(which I fear will not be written) on Rhythmic Re- 
surgence, The Pulse in Speech, and that sort of thing, 
if you know what I mean. The phenomenon con- 

117 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

sists in the disposition to reenforce one adjective with 
another. It may imply doubt of the sufficiency of 
the first; or perhaps further hesitation (already evi- 
denced by the original qualification) to proceed to 
the subject. Or it may be the result of a sensuous 
desire to hear a pleasant sound repeated — syzygies 
are often alliterative — or of a more obscure long- 
ing for phonetic satisfaction. We may not be over- 
ingenious here. The addiction, whatever else it is 
due to, beyond question betrays a deficient sense of 
reality, a lingering over words for their own sake. 

Precisely the same, in one of its aspects, at least, 
is the significance of the intensifying habit. It ex- 
hibits a schism in the writer's mind between word and 
fact. Words chiefly interest him. Facts are some- 
times useful excuses for them. Facts may be quiet, 
gray, ordinary; but words must be strong, tall and 
splendid — superlative if possible. 

On second thought, I will oblige with one list of 
interesting intensifications and syzygies, all from a 
single address — before Congress, May 21st., 19 17. 

indispensable instrumentalities 
exhaustive study 
enormous expenses 
immensely serviceable 
exactly realize 
most liberal 
least of all 

Il8 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

least possible inconvenience 

much more rapidly 

as lightly as possible 

greatly facilitate 

exceptional disturbance 

exceptional significance 

long delayed 

largely evaded 

considerable range 

very much needed and very welcome 

very earnestly 

very urgently 

very little way 

very different destination 

very stimulating 

a very true sense 

shown very clearly 

this very field 

very practical 

innumerable questions 

critical need 

prompt attention 

essential matter 

organic way 

full recognition 

right life 

right advantage 

proper success 

great shipyards 

great reforms 

119 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

great process 
wantonly destroyed 
special consideration 
abundant supplies 
positive legislation 
successful maintenance 
thoroughly kind 
peculiarly insidious 
obvious prudence 
steadfast courage 
pressing necessities 
grievous burden 
immediate contact 
immediate adoption 
absolutely necessary 
whole world 
whole country 
genuine democratization 
genuine cooperation 
real prosperity 
sound practical sense 
actual reforms 
clearly not the time 
clearly desirable 
mere reconstruction 
single generation 
experienced skill 
daily labor 
free capital 
willing hands 

1 20 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

dreaded antagonists 



happier and better 

greater and more vital 

operative and manifest 

great and honorable 

immediate and substantial 

legitimate and not burdensome 

equal and equitable 

immediate and very practical 

simple and easy 

timely and helpful 

complete and intelligible 

uniform and coordinated 

constant and adequate 

insidious and dangerous 

difficult and expensive 

thorough and satisfactory 

less disturbed and less weakened 

peculiar and stimulating 

strong and well-equipped 

citizens and human beings 

plans and purposes 

spirit and method 

form and spirit 

form and degree 

advice and information 

counsel and suggestion 

best experience and best thoughts 

121 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

reorganization and reform 

scope and swing 

credit and enterprise 

significance and value 

justice and advantage 

confusion and inconsistency 

coordination and adjustment 

capacity and resources 

sustain and advance 

hope and believe 

preserving and safeguarding life and health 

set up and develop 

was and may be again 

supplement and enrich 

urged and debated 

unify and improve 

lack and ought to have 

Mr. Wilson does not concur, he entirely concurs; 
he is seldom gratified, he usually is profoundly grati- 
fied; he does not feel pleasure, he experiences unaf- 
fected pleasure; he seldom says anything, but he is 
always privileged to say, or, speaking from his heart, 
says, or in all frankness says; nothing is unnecessary, 
something is always clearly unnecessary; nothing is 
merely indefensible, it is clearly indefensible; noth- 
ing is necessary, something is always absolutely neces- 
sary; few things are obvious, but almost everything 
is particularly obvious; nothing is impressive, every- 
thing is gravely impressive. 

122 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

Recently a noticeable exhibition of this generosity 
has been in connection with the word " frank " — an- 
other of Mr. Wilson's favorite collocations of let- 
ters and sounds. It is true that the history of the 
United States contains no suggestion or hint of a 
President who practiced secretiveness with anything 
approaching Mr. Wilson's squirrel-like, jackdaw-like 
instinct; but it is equally true, and in candor should be 
admitted, that Mr. Wilson has never claimed to be 
11 frank." Mr. Wilson is always at least " very 
frank," sometimes " extremely frank," and not in- 
frequently " absolutely frank." He also speaks, 
sometimes, with " the utmost candor." 

There are grammarians who assert that if a glass 
is full, it is a locutionary crime and a confession of 
either mental confusion or moral indifference, to de- 
scribe it as " very full." Either the glass is full, or 
it is not full. The case is clear as to such qualities 
as truthfulness and honesty; they do not exist in 
degrees of comparison. A lady is not " absolutely 
virtuous," or " quite virtuous," or " rather virtu- 
ous." A man, it would seem, is frank, or he is not 
frank. There is no room for graduated assessment 
of the amount of frankness in a man's mind. This 
is not, however, the case with Presidents, appar- 
ently. 

Even Mr. Wilson's " absolute " is a matter of 
comparison. I believe that " absolute zero " has 

123 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

never been attained by science. Mr. Wilson would 
hardly regard the quest as worth while. He would 
be satisfied with nothing less than " very absolute 
zero." Ordinary, merely " frank," minds contem- 
plate the absolute as the end of the vista of reason 
and of speech. But minds gifted with the ability to 
be supererogatorily frank, comparatively or superla- 
tively frank, understand that the absolute itself is a 
mere matter of comparison. Accordingly Mr. Wil- 
son writes of " the President's control, which is 
very absolute, of the nation's foreign relations " 
{Constitutional Government , page 77). 

He is not satisfied to describe a principle as funda- 
mental; or even as more fundamental; it must be 
MUCH more fundamental. "Shipwreck": is there 
a word in the language that more deeply moves the 
ordinary mind with the sense of complete catastro- 
phe? Mr. Wilson must speak of " calamitous ship- 
wreck." 

The testimony which the intensified style gives of 
the writer's infatuation with words is, curiously 
enough, also a confession of his mistrust of them. 
He not only believes in words, but at the same time 
he doubts them. He is sure that nothing is more ef- 
fectual, but he is never sure that they are effectual. 
So he piles them up. Mr. Wilson constantly says: 
" the nation itself" " and reaction whatever" " the 

124 



LEARNED ADDICTIONS 

very fundamental presumptions," " more essential 
reasons," " the very essence ITSELF." 

/ am the Doubter and the Doubt; 
They reckon ill who leave me out. 



125 



s 



IV 

SYMBOLISM 

" /SYMBOLS," runs the statement of the stu- 
dent of Symbolbildung, Silberer, — " symbols 
may originate when man endeavors to grasp 
mentally something which his intellect finds too re- 
mote; may originate also when man's intellectual 
powers are reduced as in sleep (in dreams), nervous 
exhaustion, or by mental disturbances. . . . An in- 
ferior mind, or a mind incompetent for its stated 
mental task, unable to use the accurate language of 
science or philosophy, will resort to a symbol." " In 
other words" (is Andre Tridon's comment), 1 
" thinking in symbols is infantile, archaic, inferior, 
thinking. Instead of determining in scientific ways, 
by the operation of logical mental operations, the na- 
ture, essence and significance of a new phenomenon, 
it simply compares it with some already familiar phe- 
nomenon " — in other words, is unable to discrimin- 
ate and advance, can only hesitate, stop and cover its 
confusion by the invocation of a revered name. 

1 Psychoanalysis: Its History, Theory and Practice. By Andre 
Tridon. New York, B. W. Huebsch, Inc. 

126 



SYMBOLISM 

The subject of Woodrow Wilson's initiation into 
the mystery of words invites a moment's attention. 

His youthful idols were his father and his grand- 
fathers — two Presbyterian preachers and an editor. 
His every known male ancestor was either printer, 
pedagogue or parson. His father was all three; 
bred in the family printing-office, Joseph Wilson 
started his career as a teacher of rhetoric, then mar- 
ried the daughter of a pedantic dominie and became 
one himself. Of him Mr. Wilson's biographer 
writes that he 

" had been a professor of rhetoric, and he always remained 
one, taking very seriously, and practicing with a sense of its 
sanctity, the art of words. He read his sermons, every one 
of which was marked by high literary finish, although in no 
sense unduly rhetorical. A man of unusual scholarship and 
a student to the end of his days, he is remembered to have 
indulged in but a single form of pedantry; his regard for 
language had inclined him affectionately toward the original 
significance of words, and he was sometimes observed to use 
them in an antiquated sense. Thus he occasionally indulged 
in such a phrase as ' I wonder with a great admiration.' 
Charles Lamb used to do the same thing, as you will learn 
if you will read the first sentence of Imperfect Sympathies. 

" When indulging in his harmless foible, the preacher 
might have been caught glancing around the congregation 
to catch, if it might be, the pleasure of an appreciative gleam 
in some hearer's eye. He was a man of humor as well as of 
learning and thought, and, when his son had grown to dis- 

127 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

cerning years, always showed great delight if the boy evinced, 
by repeating it, that he remembered some fanciful or elo- 
quent or learned phrase." [The Story of His Life, p. 25.] 

Yet, curiously enough, the scion of this race of 
verbalists, the son of the professor of rhetoric, was 
not taught his letters until he was nine years old — 
" for one reason or another," his biographer re- 
marks. For one reason or another, also, Tommy 
Wilson as a boy always ran or skipped; u he can 
scarcely be said to have walked until he was fourteen 
or fifteen years old." It was about this time, at this 
critical age, that he began to read and to write in- 
dustriously. 

Whether it was on account of some youthful nerv- 
ous tendency, or by the deliberate intent of his father, 
who, though making the boy the constant companion 
of his thoughts and dreams, yet withheld him from 
knowledge of the secret of the written w r ord, nothing 
could have operated more effectually to impress him 
ineffaceably for life with a belief in the magic of 
words and their graphic symbols — more important, 
more sacred, than the facts and thoughts which they 
stood for, and which had long been familiar things 
surrounded by no special mystery. 

His childhood was filled with stories of the grand- 
father who had learned the art preservative in the 
shop that had been Benjamin Franklin's, and who 
had established the first newspaper west of the Alle- 

128 



SYMBOLISM 

ghenies; of the uncles who could stick type faster 
than any rival — except his father. From his ear- 
liest youth he saw that father busy six days among 
his books and over his manuscript, and on the sev- 
enth beheld him ascend the pulpit and read from 
mysterious signs on sheets before him, solemn and 
moving words to silent congregations. When it was 
not his father in the pulpit, it was his grandfather 
(himself, they said, born with spectacles on his nose 
and a quill in his hand). There was a dictionary 
on every table in the manse; and the voices of de- 
vout grammarians wrestling mightily often awoke 
him in the night. Yet he grew up, in such surround- 
ings, to the age of ten before he could read. 

Would it be strange if the tardily-admitted neo- 
phyte soon outdid his masters in devotion to the cult 
of verbiage; strange if letters, which had so long 
been cabalistic, always retained for him something of 
a magical content; if a word remained forever for 
him really rather a wonder-working image than a 
commonplace vehicle for a plain thought or a down- 
right fact? It can hardly be mere fancy that the 
postponement of his initiation into the fellowship of 
letters wrought in him an added respect for them 
above that already made probable by his inheritance 
and his early environment — made religious rever- 
ence for the symbols themselves a permanent ele- 
ment of his character. 

129 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

For what we have discovered about the adult Wil- 
son's use of language amounts to this ; may at least be 
put thus: that he is given to words of large connota- 
tions, and that he habitually employs them without 
definite relevancy — that is to say, he uses them as 
symbols. 

The essence of a symbol is that it is something, 
not the fact, which, however, by some one or another 
of its included semblances, reminiscences or sugges- 
tions, is assumed to represent the fact. The like- 
ness, reminiscence, or suggestion, is perceived. by the 
inventor of the symbol; it may afterward be de- 
tected by others — it may be so natural that it is in- 
stantly recognized by others as a graphic representa- 
tion of the fact. More often, it is only through ex- 
planation and frequent repetition that it comes to be 
accepted. Usually, also, the implications of the sym- 
bol are so indefinite and broad that it can suggest, 
not a specific reality, but only a class or group of 
realities. He who employs it may have in mind a 
single thing, but he can only presume that it is that 
particular thing which will be called up in the minds 
of his readers or auditors. But, more likely, the 
symbol-user does not have in his own mind a specific 
and clearly-conceived reality, and is of course not en- 
deavoring to communicate to his readers a clear con- 
ception of a specific reality — being without it him- 
self. 

130 



SYMBOLISM 

The discoveries of the ultra-modern psychologists 
who term themselves " Behaviorists " would prob- 
ably throw much light on the subject of the response 
of the mind to the suggestions of the symbolist orator 
or writer — if I were capable of expounding them. 
It seems that when an artificial stimulus is associated 
for a long time with a natural, native stimulus, it 
acquires power to effect the same result. It is all, 
they say, a matter of a reflex muscular expansion or 
contraction somewhere, or of a secretion by this or 
that gland. Whether the sound of a bell soothes 
with the tender emotions of a golden evening, or 
thrills with the excitement of a midnight alarm, 
turns on certain variations of catabolism which await 
the decree prescribed by association. 

It is possible for a sound, a color, an odor, to 
awaken twelve different emotions in a dozen persons. 
And therefore, pragmatically, it has been the effort 
of advancing civilization — conscious of the value of 
rational communication between men — to redeem 
certain tracts of these stimulations from ambiguity; 
to train the equivocal to be univocal. 

The spoken and the written word have been the 
chosen ministers of this process. They who appre- 
ciate the importance of the possibilities of definite 
communication between mind and mind will ha- 
bitually eschew the ambiguous, emotional employ- 
ment of words — even if thereby they sacrifice an 

131 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

easy means of winning popular approval and of ex- 
cusing themselves from the task of confronting facts, 
making decisions on them, and supervising, with ra- 
tional attention, the movements of thought. 



Like every other vice, the symbolic use of words 
not only originates in a weakness, — but fosters that 
weakness. The addict to vague speech is encour- 
aged in the vagueness of thought which it probably 
was that led him to his first indulgences. Precisely 
like the victim of narcotic drugs, the symbol-addict is 
likely to continue to flee exacting realities and to live 
among the pleasurable phantoms created by his ad- 
diction. 

But rational thought must live among realities, 
and deal with realities. Symbols will suffice for the 
hazy mind of the superstitious savage; but, as knowl- 
edge widens and reason deepens, their expression 
must grow more definite. Symbols will be left be- 
hind, and realities will come to be explicitly dealt 
with. True words will crowd out the first crude ef- 
forts to name things. " What, after all, is a 
word? " — asks Trench — " what but the enclosure 
of a certain district from the vast out-field of thought 
and fact?" Narrower and narrower districts will 
be delineated; more and more subtle verbal repre- 
sentations will be employed to name each of the in- 

132 



SYMBOLISM 

finite varieties of fact and idea which throng the 
teeming world and increasingly press upon the appre- 
hension, and which can be made our own only to the 
extent and in the degree to which we do thus subtly 
name them. They only will continue using mystic 
generalizations who for special reasons occasionally 
design to appeal to the emotional imagination, or 
they who linger in the infantile intellectual stage, or 
are estopped from free adult thought by constitu- 
tional inner complexes or by the paralysis of sleep, 
narcotics, sickness or fatigue. 



If we accept the Trenchant definition, we shall be 
obliged to ask what certain district is, by Mr. Wil- 
son's ubiquitous " processes " for example, enclosed 
from the vast out-field of thought and fact. That 
question we shall ask in vain — and ask it concern- 
ing scores of the most abounding of his phrases. 
They are not proper words, but symbols. They do 
not describe things; they do not represent them; 
— they substitute for them. 

Now, it is merely a natural and expectable result 
that the substitute should supersede the reality. 
There was a happy-faced sentence somewhere on the 
opening pages of this book insinuating that there is 
no necessary disparagement in describing a personage 
as a " man of words." No necessary disparage- 

133 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

ment, certainly; but nevertheless there is a persistent 
instinct that a man of words is in danger of being a 
man of little else — a man who mistakes images for 
realities. That is what he will be if he employs 
words as symbols. He will juggle with the substi- 
tutes, instead of doing business with the facts with 
which he confuses them. 

It is an imperative instinct of the savage and the 
infantile mind to confound the effigy with the thing 
it was assumed to represent. The little girl showers 
her kisses upon her doll. The religious (the unde- 
veloped, superstitious) mind for thousands of years 
has been satisfied with images. Irrationalized mobs 
of grown men to-day burn in effigy. Wax figures 
stuck with pins are melted before the fire in peasants' 
cabins in remote districts, not only according to the 
stories of Hardy and the poems of Rossetti, but in 
the daily newspapers. Quite modern persons, other- 
wise cultured, in our own days, have been known 
loth to let their photographs get out of their own 
hands. Wars have been fought for the possession 
of an ark, a xoanon, a palladium, a sacred picture. 
Whole nations profess willingness to bleed and die 
for a flag or a motto. 

" A word," says the scholarly Trench again, " is a 
sacrament." By authority, a sacrament is defined as 
u the outward and visible sign of an inward and 
spiritual grace." Nothing, indeed, could be more 

!34 



SYMBOLISM 

beautifully sacramental in the best sense than a sound 
word faithfully employed as a true sign of an in- 
visible idea. It is the world of spirit taking flesh 
in the world of matter; it is a sacred oath of the 
consecration of the reason to the cause of truth; it is 
a veritable transubstantiation. But sacraments are 
notoriously open to abuse. Where the real presence 
is absent, when a symbol-word, in its futility, is al- 
lowed to depose and supersede the reality, it be- 
comes the outward and visible sign of an inward and 
spiritual — disgrace. 



At this point, as well as at another, we may pause 
to record the merely just observation that Mr. Wil- 
son's symbolism is of no common, plebeian order. 
There are objects which popular imagination has 
everywhere seized upon as convenient vessels for 
emotion which altogether fail to appeal to him as 
reputable symbols. The more popular patriotic 
fetishes are not over-frequently employed by him. 
He seldom personifies, and never apostrophizes, the 
most common images of national life. 

" The flag," for instance, is rather less often on 
Mr. Wilson's lips than on those of other oratorical 
patriots who in war-time believe that they also serve 
who only stand and wave. The flag is a pure and 
proper symbol. It is created to symbolize; it is an 

135 






THE STORY OF A STYLE 

image, lifted up to be reverenced, in all reason, for 
what is stands for. During the mental moratorium 
which all wars declare, the flag indeed tends to be- 
come a fetish, gathering to itself properties and 
claiming treatment which only superstition can jus- 
tify. I am unacquainted with any passage in which 
this war-President ascribes any thaumaturgic prop- 
erties to the national ensign. Likewise " the uni- 
form " seems to invest for him no special mystic vir- 
tue. He did not himself exchange the toga for the 
paludamentum. Indeed, his tributes to the flag 
read labored, and often singularly infelicitous: " I 
venture to say that a great many things are said 
about the flag which very few people stop to analyze. 
. . . How can any man presume to interpret the 
emblem of the United States, the emblem of what 
we would fain be among the family of the nations 
and it is incumbent upon us to be in the daily round 
of routine duty?" (What does that sentence 
mean?) " If you lose the physical emblem, be sure 
you wear it in your heart." That is hardly happy. 
Mr. Wilson's stock eulogy of the flag runs as fol- 
lows: 



" When I look at that flag it seems to me as if the white 
stripes were strips of parchment upon which are written 
the rights of man, and the red stripes the streams of blood 

136 



SYMBOLISM 

by which those rights have been made good. Then in the 
little blue firmament in the corner have swung out the stars 
of the States of the American Union. So, it is, as it were, 
a sort of floating charter that has come down to us from 
Runnymede . . ." 

This passage, which in spontaneity and sincerity 
certainly compares favorably with Rodman Drake's 
" When-Freedom-from-her-mountain-height " rhap- 
sody, was well received in all parts of New Jersey 
during the state campaign of 1910-1912, and has 
done yeoman's duty in various presidential addresses. 
Mr. Wilson has never succumbed to sincere emo- 
tional impulse on this subject. His infrequent allu- 
sions to the uniform are equally unsatisfactory to the 
superstitious mind; his most notable utterance is 
" We need wear no uniform except the uniform of 
the heart " (whatever that is). 

It is fair to say that Mr. Wilson does not affect 
fetishes of the common, popular order. 



Why not? In the first place doubtless because 
the compulsion of his pedantic training inclines him 
to aloofness from the plebeian tongue and limits his 
vocabulary to terms learned and abstruse; but, in the 
second place, because the common symbols have ac- 
quired a somewhat definite meaning, and are conse- 
quently confining, exacting and burdensome to inex- 

137 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

act cerebration, and, furthermore, are less efficacious 
in arousing the admiring imagination. Mr. Wilson 
is no elementary, but an advanced, symbolist. He 
desires words of such truly splendid vagueness of 
metaphoric content, that they will satisfy his own 
ambiguous emotions and impress his auditors with 
his profoundity. 

There was a certain phenomenon in the early 
Church known as " speaking with tongues " — 
namely, babbling nonsensical syllables under the sup- 
posed inspiration of heaven. St. Paul was much con- 
cerned about it, and he encountered it with a delicious 
satire which makes one of his letters the classic on 
the subject of plain speech: 

" He that speaketh in an unknown tongue edifieth him- 
self, no doubt; but he that teacheth openly speaketh unto 
men to edification and exhortation and comfort. I would 
that ye all spake ' with tongues ' ; yet greater is he that 
speaketh openly than he that speaketh with tongues — except 
he interpret. I had rather speak five words with my un- 
derstanding than ten thousand words in a ' tongue.' Where- 
fore let him that speaketh in an unknown tongue pray that 
he may interpret. If there be no interpreter in the assem- 
bly let him keep silent and let him speak to himself — and to 
God. Why, even inanimate things that give sound, whether 
pipe or harp, unless they give distinct notes in the sounds — 
how in the world shall it be known what is piped or harped? 
If the trumpet give a sound that is uncertain who shall pre- 

138 



SYMBOLISM 

pare himself to the battle? So likewise ye, except ye utter 
by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be 
known what is spoken? Ye shall speak in the air." 

There is no doubt, however, that speaking in 
" tongues " continued in much esteem in the early 
Church; it has often been revived, especially in the 
more fanatical times and places. Just as among 
the most primitive peoples, so down to this day, gib- 
berish enjoys a very special repute as a mark of 
knowledge of sacred things. The incoherent ravings 
of the violently insane may not indeed nowadays be 
regarded as divine, but the jargon of illiterate " psy- 
chics " is to-day listened to with awe by half the 
world, apparently. The last great hoax of 
" tongues " was the Book of Mormon; if a pair of 
magic spectacles had not too thoughtfully been pro- 
vided for its interpretation, its prestige would prob- 
ably be even greater than it is to-day. 

Mr. Wilson's employment of the hieroglyph and 
the " tongue " is of course no vulgar matter of either 
fanaticism or deception; but clearly it does touch, 
ves, enters well into, the realm of the magical. 



A number of preceding paragraphs have hinted 
at the connection between symbolism and magic. 
While this investigation is hasty, superficial and 

139 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

merely suggestive, it ought not to fail to note some- 
what more positively the tendency of the leisure-class 
mentality (trained to servility before earthly and un- 
earthly superiors, reverence for prowess and chance, 
in irrationality and superstition), constantly to in- 
dulge in un-rational appeals — as by ritual, costume, 
and talismanic words. Just as masses and litanies 
are in effect enchantments, and as the special dress of 
priests, scholars and sportsmen represents a desire 
to honor, propitiate and charm supernatural powers, 
so there is a necromancy of words. Indeed, there 
lingers always even in the ordinary employment of 
written or oral symbols for things, something of 
their original primitive mystery. Words, we have 
seen, even at their best, are not things, but images, 
icons. It is the business of reason to remember 
their purely representative office, to accept and han- 
dle them only as counters, valueless in themselves, 
estimable solely in the degree with which they de- 
scribe the fact behind them. But the disposition to 
attribute mystic power to the image, and conse- 
quently to employ it magically, is universal. 
Words, too, were probably in their origin phonetic- 
ally and graphically imitative. But imitation was 
one of the primitive forms of magic. (Imitation 
remains no doubt the chief element in all magical 
performances.) 

Moreover, there are few methods in which the 

140 



SYMBOLISM 

superior few can display their elevation more con- 
spicuously, constantly or impressively than by their 
possession of a large and, even more desirably, of a 
special and elegant, vocabulary. What mere nat- 
ural than that the populace should be inclined to 
identify the power of the possessors of the esoteric 
vocabulary with its possession — and to become 
word-idolators? What more natural, as the next 
step, than that the word-wielders should themselves 
fall under the infatuation with which they had hyp- 
notized the people? The rigmarole of the law, the 
pig-Latin of the practitioners of healing, are easily 
distinguishable as magical in intention and effect. 
Rationally they are cumbersome, inconvenient and 
unsafe; every practical reason is against them; yet 
they survive. The age of miracles has not passed. 
But the cant of the sportsman or of the preacher, 
and the learned style of the scholar, are no less of 
a magical cast. They put into evidence the superior- 
ity of the speaker, they suggest occult sources of 
power, and they become an instrument of wizardry 
upon which the practitioner comes to rely — with 
good evidence of its efficacy; — comes to believe in. 
Mr. Wilson not only employs the ordinary magi- 
cal apparatus of his class — the peculiar diction of 
the professional pedant and aristocrat; he has a 
private stock of enchantments. " Counsel," " pro- 
cesses," " hearts," " visions," " voices," etc., as he 

141 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

uses them, and as we have seen, are talismanic voca- 
bles. They ordinarily represent the merest resi- 
duum of definite thought, and are effective only as 
vessels into which indefinite emotions may pour them- 
selves. The effect of their employment is to lull and 
stupefy the reasoning mind and summon phantasms 
from the vasty deep. Mr. Wilson's " counsel " is 
as truly a wonder-working image as is the figure of 
the Virgin of Guadalupe or of Chenestova. Mind 
you, while we talk here of the spell of speech, the 
wizardry of words, their magic and enchantment, 
we are not using figurative language at all, but the 
language of scientific realism. 

We are not talking, of course, of merely phonetic 
charm. Everybody is familiar with the hypnotic 
effect of sounds. De Quincey counted as most sol- 
emn and heart-quaking the appellation, Consul 
Romanus; Mark Twain wrote of German words so 
movingly that they make a stranger to the language 
weep; more than one actor and bishop have been 
credited with working the same miracle by breath- 
ing the blessed word, " Mesopotamia/' Poe in The 
Bells composed an onomatopoeic marvel. Most of 
the great artists in words have the faculty of hap- 
pily marrying sound and sense. 

Little relation between sound and sense is to be 
found in Mr. Wilson's writings; so far as I can dis- 
cover, with neither instinct nor conscious art does he 

142 



SYMBOLISM 

ever associace the idea and the tone. There is a 
great deal, a very great deal, indeed, of sound repeti- 
tion — a phenomenon indeed perhaps the most ar- 
resting we shall have to observe. But I detect no 
passages at all in which sound is accommodated to 
orchestrate the mood, after the manner of the great 
masters of human speech. Here is no wizardry of 
music, no clash of trumpets here, or sighing of soft 
breezes there. The magic is of another kind. It 
depends upon the recitation of a few words, each 
of large and accommodating connotation; and the 
investiture of them, through insistent reiteration in 
all sorts of connections, with an emotional, mystical, 
hieratic character. It is their constant invocation, 
their association with every dimly-formed thought, 
the continuous assumption of their plenary and esot- 
eric significance — not their sounds — that impart 
to these words their mystic poWer. 

If this were a treatise of wider range, a main ques- 
tion for us would be why talismanic words are effec- 
tive; we should reflect upon the irrationality of the 
public. For the immediate purposes of this study, 
the question is: why does Mr. Wilson employ them? 
We are probably now justified in saying that few 
writers have made so constant use of the sacred ver- 
bal image, have so often invoked the mechanism of 
superstition. 

Now, not all purveyors of sorcery have faith in it. 

143 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Many a doctor must write his cabalistic symbols with 
his tongue in his cheek; many a young lawyer or di- 
vine must have found it hard to contract the habit of 
mystic speech (though certainly the very employ- 
ment of magic is likely to weaken the intellect and 
beget the superstition to which it panders). We 
cannot, out of hand, convict a caballist of irration- 
ality; he may be a wise quack. But it is difficult to 
reconcile a life-long devotion to the verbal incanta- 
tion, often employed even in handling the greatest 
and most serious concerns, with a serene and possess- 
ing rationality. 

A man whose mind obeys the precepts of logical 
thought practices definite speech and has faith in 
definite speech. Certainly he feels no constant need 
for mystical phrases. And when he enters the more 
difficult regions where especially clear thought is 
called upon to dissipate darkness, his words will 
shine with that definite, cold, calm radiance of rea- 
son which lights the stars as they swing through the 
night. 



The Freudians have not proved their theory of the 
obsessive nature of numbers. Their arguments, so 
far as they have come to the attention of the author 
of this immortal work, seem to him absurdly fine- 
spun and over-ingenious. But that there are a few 

144 



SYMBOLISM 

certain numerals which, by reason of magical associa- 
tions, do intrude themselves upon the consciousness, 
everybody well knows : chief among them the sacred 
Three and Seven, and the diabolic Thirteen. Mr. 
Wilson takes much interest in the curious fact that 
the number Thirteen has figured conspicuously in his 
life. This interest, so far as avowal, and, without 
doubt, so far as consciousness goes, is merely an 
amused noting of coincidences. A psychoanalyst 
would no doubt prove that it represented a subcon- 
scious, and inhibited, belief in the influence of the 
magic number - — ridiculed, yet, with due conscious 
disparagement, indulged. The fact that Mr. Wil- 
son notices that his name, like that of " Geo. Wash- 
ington," contains thirteen letters, has already been 
noted. Mr. Wilson has more than once in my hear- 
ing spoken of the list it would be possible to make of 
the critical events in his career which had occurred 
on the 13th of the month. The press has widely 
commented upon these coincidences. There is no 
evidence that Mr. Wilson himself first noticed them; 
he probably did not in any event communicate them 
to the press. But his interest in the number was 
the suggestion which directed attention to the coinci- 
dences which have since been awaited and noted, and 
which, as I happen to know, have continued to en- 
tertain him. 

The irrationality of any belief in the mystic power 

145 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

of numerals is not consciously indulged by Mr. Wil- 
son; his writings show nothing of the arithmomania 
exhibited by the author of the Book of Daniel or of 
the Book of Revelation or by Rossetti. 



Among the most frequent of Mr. Wilson's ad- 
dictions are, we have noticed, the words " heart," 
" voices," and " visions." Their tireless reappear- 
ances in his writings have caused some newspaper 
merriment. These three words, and a few others 
of their class, are symbols of a character peculiarly 
infantile — in the philosophic sense. 

Personification is the first instinct of a savage, or 
of a child, brought face to face with a natural fact. 
He instantly imputes its effect to the will of an in- 
dwelling spirit. He visualizes a personality with 
the limbs, organs, senses and disposition of a living 
being — preferably of the genus with which he is 
best acquainted — man. What he cannot conceive 
as anthropomorphic must be at least animistic. 

The habit of personification might, on first 
thought, be deemed an evidence of especially vivid 
apprehension. Does it not mean that the writer 
realizes the object of his thought so thoroughly that 
it is actually animate to him? It lives in his imagina- 
tion. It is invested with the attributes of an active 
conscious being; it is no dead abstraction. The 

146 



SYMBOLISM 

breath of life has been breathed into its nostrils. 
What could be more significant of strength and vi- 
tality of vision, than to talk of the mouth of the river, 
the bowels of the earth, the rising of the moon, the 
setting sun, the laughing waterfall, the foot of the 
tree, the voice of the thunder, the hands of the clock, 
the scent of danger, the tooth of time? These and 
hundreds more like personifications are firmly incor- 
porated in universal human speech. To be without 
them, would that not be to devitalize and dull, not 
only language, but apprehension? And does not the 
possession of a special power of personification mark, 
and account for much of the fame of, many masters 
of literature? 

As I write the above paragraph there comes to 
my mind a tribute once paid to an author commonly 
adjudged to be one of the most vivid and moving of 
novelists. The address attributed much of the 
power of Dickens to his capacity for personifying 
the inanimate. Part of it ran: 

" Charles Dickens never outgrew his childhood ; he thought 
as a child, saw as a child, and spake as a child, and when he 
became a man he did not put away childish things. ... A 
child has the power of personifying very strongly developed. 
For the child, the house is really looking out of its win- 
dows, the flowers are really dancing and flirting with their 
neighbors. So Dickens gives us whole chapters about how 
the wind chased the leaves, the emotion of the wind as it 

147 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

chased the leaves, the sentiments of the leaves, the culpability 
of a wind which would chase leaves; long passages about 
another wind which penetrated into a church and stalked 
through the aisles, reading the inscriptions on the tombs, 
sighing over some and howling over others, trying the organ 
and rattling the windows. In other places he personifies the 
cricket on the hearth, the quarreling of the bells, the song of 
the waves; again, footsteps in a lonely street bring a personal 
message of impending disaster. This is not, with Dickens, a 
literary trick, at all ; but an inevitable exercise of that per- 
sonifying tendency of the child, to whose fancy the inanimate 
things of Nature live and speak. 

11 Dickens, you know, was precocious as a child. He told 
Forster that he distinctly remembered events that must have 
occurred before his third birthday. He was bred in poverty, 
lived in a garret, and when he was ten years old was work- 
ing in a dark cellar to keep body and soul together. The 
agonies of those years made him a man in experience before 
he had outgrown the mental habits of his childhood. A child, 
therefore, he remained in many respects. Such he was, to the 
end, I think, in the essence of his genius, however mature 
he may have been in the exercise of that genius. That is the 
reason why there lurks in his pages a magic like the magic 
of the spring and the dawn that renews the face of the 
earth in jubilance and glory." 

These words were spoken at the Commemorative 
Dinner given at Delmonico's in New York by the 
Dickens Fellowship on the Centenary of the novel- 
ist's birth. There could have been in them no in- 

148 



SYMBOLISM 

tention of disparagement. I meant them, and they 
were received, as an eulogium; yet they connect the 
habit of personification with the intellectualisation 
of the child. 

That connection is unquestionable. It was in the 
childhood of the race that the thunder threatened, 
the tree-tops whispered, the clouds refused their rain, 
the parched bosom of the withholding earth waited 
to be entreated, the constellations hunted and were 
hunted in the firmament, the demons of the west de- 
voured the god of day, the waves danced or hungrily 
gnawed, the wind singing in the cordage was the 
voice of sirens lulling the senses of seamen in the 
presence of danger. 

And it is the child-mind which, amid the enlighten- 
ment of modern knowledge, continues to think of the 
inanimate as the abode of life. The child touches a 
watch with reverent wonder; whips the hobby-horse 
that has flung him. The primitive instinct, asserting 
itself in a moment of pain and anger, has been 
known to impel a modern man to kick the chair on 
which he has barked his shins. 

Our lists of quotations are in danger of growing 
too long. Let us content ourselves this time with 
the first dozen examples of personification from the 
pages of them which my note-book contains: ' 

" Swords made uneasy stir in their scabbards." 

149 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

". . . sinister Power that has now at last stretched out its 
ugly talons." 

11 These are the breath of the nation's nostrils." 
1 We have seen tariff legislation wander very far afield." 

' A cry had gone out from every stricken home." 

'! The nations that have been long under the heel of the 
Austrian have called out to the world. The liberated peo- 
ples call out for this thing." 

1 Two spokesmen in the Senate have added its voice to 
our counsels in a place where voices can still be individually 
heard. The fact that the Senate has kept its original rules 
of debate and procedure unchanged is very significant. It is 
a place of individual voices. The suppression of any single 
voice would radically change its constitutional character, 
and its character being changed, the individual voices . . ." 

" There is, moreover, a voice calling for these definitions 
of principle and of purpose w T hich is, it seems to me, more 
thrilling and more compelling than any of the many moving 
voices with which the troubled air of the world is filled. 
It is the voice of the Russian people." 

" Columbus had turned his adventurous prows straight 
toward the heart of the seemingly limitless ocean." 

" Europe is a bit sick at heart." 

". . . never felt the great pulse of the heart of the world." 

" Now the heart of the world is awake and the heart of 
the world must be satisfied." 

" Dare we reject it, and break the heart of the world? " 

Especially symptomatic of the animistic attitude 
is the addiction to the word " quick " which possibly 

150 



SYMBOLISM 

may have been noticed before in these pages. It has 
the recommendation, to a pedant, of being a prac- 
tically obsolete word, — that is to say, in the sense in 
which Mr. Wilson employs it — with Scriptural as- 
sociations. It conveys an invidious distinction — 
that between " the quick and the dead " — suggests 
the ghostly visit of a spirit to a corse, summoned by a 
Dr. Dee or a Witch of Endor. Thus it carries a 
magical implication. 

But in fact and in truth, the objects to which Mr. 
Wilson is fond of referring as " quickened," " quick- 
ening," or " quick with," are necessarily and forever 
inanimate. It is an animistic superstition, foreign to 
sober thought, to endow them with life. 

We must, however, do Mr. Wilson this justice : 
His mind is not so active as really to contemplate the 
object of his thought under the multitudinous as- 
pects of life which the more imaginative child or sav- 
age discerns. His personifications are of an ex- 
tremely rudimentary character. They have few or- 
gans; they perform only two or three acts. They 
are rather indeterminate visions; yet not disem- 
bodied, for they have hearts, explicitly; and they 
must have mouths, for they utter voices. This is 
about the extent with which we are made acquainted 
with these rather feeble, commonplace phantoms. 
In other words, they are not vivid creatures of an 
alert imagination, at all; but only stage figures, or 

151 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

rather reappearances of a single stage figure, meager 
and threadbare and sadly overworked. Mr. Wilson 
has fallen into the personifying habit; he talks of 
almost everything under the sun as having the two 
or three most obvious animal organs, but he does 
not really vividly conceive them in the abounding vi- 
tality of the creations of primitive or childlike fancy. 
The poverty of his imagination scarcely relieves him 
from the imputation of the infantile habit of mind; 
but it suggests again the fatigued or otherwise im- 
peded effort with which even his most characteristic 
mental operations are carried on. 



Mr. Wilson's confidence that the symbolized con- 
tent which words hold for him they must inevitably 
hold for others, and his surprised impatience with 
minds which do not always and instantly follow his 
own ideation, were well illustrated in his White 
House Conference with the Senate Committee on 
Foreign Relations, August 19, 19 19. Confronted 
with concrete questions as to the meaning and effect 
of the language of passage after passage of the 
Paris Peace Treaty and Covenant of Nations, and 
annoyed by irrepressible murmurs of doubt from 
every side, the President spent two hours in protesta- 
tions and exclamations over the lack of faith and 
vision on the part of his interlocutors. 

152 



SYMBOLISM 

The following exchanges took place between the 
President and one Senator: 

The President: " I must frankly confess I am unable to 
understand. . . . 

" I am frankly unable to understand why such doubts 
should be entertained. . . . 

" There was absolutely no doubt as to the meaning of any 
one of the resulting provisions of the covenant in the minds 
of those who participated in drafting them, and I respectfully 
submit that there is nothing vague or doubtful in their 
wording." 

Senator Brandegee: " Of course, that is your opinion, if 
I may say so." 

The President: " Yes, sir. 

Senator Brandegee: " The fact that you think now that 
everything in the treaty is plain, and that there is no doubt 
about the meaning of any of the provisions, and the fact that 
I think there is grave doubt about many of the provisions, 
will not seriously affect the opinion of the council or of the 
arbitrator that finally passes upon the true meaning of the 
treaty when dispute arises." 

The President: " No, Senator, but the plain wording of 
the treaty will have a great deal to do with it, and the mean- 
ing of the wording is plain." 

Senator Brandegee: " That is simply another way of stat- 
ing, is it not, that you are clear in your opinion that the pro- 
visions of the treaty are plain. But I am suggesting that 
there will be a dispute between nations as to what the treaty 
means after we have passed from the scene." 

153 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

The President: " No, sir; it is a question of being confi- 
dent of what language means, not confident of an opinion." 

Senator Brandegee: " I mean, we derive our opinions as 
to the meanings of the treaty from the language of the treaty, 
do we not ? " 

The President: " Yes." 

Senator Brandegee: " Now they would derive their con- 
struction of what the treaty means from the language of it, 
we not being there? " 

The President: "Yes." 

Senator Brandegee: " So that what we think about it now 
will not determine in an international court or before an 
arbitrator twenty years hence, in case of a dispute between 
nations as to the meaning of the treaty? " 

The President: " Certainly not, but language will." 

Senator Brandegee: " Of course they will have the lan- 
guage before them, but the language which determines it is 
now disputed between you and certain lawyers of the coun- 
try, and certain Senators, as to its meaning." 

The President saw no difficulty in any one of the 
eighty thousand words of the treaty document. The 
young gentleman, a junior in college, who in 1879 in- 
formed the world that " nothing could be more ob- 
vious than " one of his theories, had, during forty 
years of later life, never very successfully struggled 
to conceal his contempt for those whose less gifted 
minds found fewer things entirely axiomatic. Other 
responses to the inquiries of Senators on this oc- 
casion ran thus: 

154 



SYMBOLISM 

"Certainly! Oh, certainly!" (How could any one 
doubt it?). 

" Oh, undoubtedly! " (How could anybody think other- 
wise?) 

" The idea is, undoubtedly, . . ." 

" Nobody has any doubt about what was agreed on." 

" Why, Senator, it is surprising that such a question should 
be asked ! " 

" Nothing more clear than . . ." 



The subject of the League of Nations is one 
deeply involved in politics. Nevertheless, there are 
aspects of Mr. Wilson's advocacy of it which may 
not be ignored by the student of his literary traits. 

When Mr. Wilson embarked from France on his 
second return home, he believed, with the faith of a 
zealot, that he was the custodian of a formula fated 
to determine for centuries the course of history. 
The Treaty and Covenant of Versailles, as he 
brought it home, represented in Mr. Wilson's mind, 
the highest kind of achievement — a verbal achieve- 
ment. By the time the great seals of the Powers 
had been placed on the document, in the reverent twi- 
light of the Hall of the Clock, in the palace of 
France's Augustan king, it had come to be, for Mr. 
Wilson, a thing precious beyond estimate, in itself — 
no longer merely, or at all, for its contents or its 
purpose. It had emerged, like an historic creed 

*55 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

from ancient Councils of fabled Fathers, a sacrosanct 
symbol, established forever, its every accent to be 
held inviolate from the sacrilegious hands of pagan 
and heretic. It might have borne, without irrever- 
ence, the imprimatur which the First Council of the 
Church did not scruple to set upon its decree: " It 
hath seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us." 

A curious circumstance was the President's anx- 
iety to keep the sacred text from the public as long 
as possible. With miser-like delight in the look and 
touch of his treasure, he gloated over it in secret. 
It is true that the text was on the streets in Paris, 
and that enterprising American bankers and news- 
papers easily secured it; but the leather case contain- 
ing the Presidential copy might have been the Ark of 
the Covenant of Jahveh with Israel. There were 
many references in the press to the affectionate care 
with which Mr. Wilson personally guarded the docu- 
ment on its journey from Paris. 

The word " fetish " is nowadays so casually em- 
ployed that I am reluctant to employ it — am en- 
tirely unwilling to employ it in anything short if its 
precise scientific sense; but no hesitation need wait 
upon the conclusion that the document incorporating 
the Treaty and Covenant of Versailles had become 
a fetish for Mr. Wilson. 

A life-long devotee of words, here he found a 
supreme accomplishment in words. A life-long 

156 



SYMBOLISM 

refugee from realities, a confirmed seeker for havens 
of refuge from embarrassing facts, of relief from 
the disturbing and distressing doubts which herald 
the approach of facts — here was a monument of 
security. As if by some special dispensation of 
Providence, there had arisen, for the astonished com- 
fort of his anxious heart, the shadow of a great 
rock in a weary land. Ungrateful indeed would Mr. 
Wilson be if he failed to yield the devotion of the 
remaining days of his life to this merciful image of 
refuge and release. 



The chronic indecision of the President's mind 
having found a rallying-point in the phrases of the 
Paris Treaty, having endowed those phrases with his 
own particular interpretations, his puzzled anger at 
Senators who failed to understand them in the exact 
sense in which they accredited themselves to him 
was — the incensed assertion of his positive self 
against the annoyance of his own doubts, now incar- 
nate in others. 

The President's insistence, at this conference and 
in repeated addresses, that the war was still on, and 
could be " stopped " only by the particular formality 
of ratifying the unamended Treaty, was perhaps the 
supreme illustration which his life affords that he 
is ruled by words and not by facts. With deep 

157 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

feeling he argued the distressed state of American 
social, industrial and trade conditions, and dilated 
upon the perils that threatened the world, unless a 
technical peace were formally completed in the 
precise words he offered. These distresses and 
dangers were imposed upon a hundred million of 
people, not by the fact of war (for there existed in 
fact no war) but, he asserted, by the failure of the 
Senate to accept without alteration a particular form 
of words, eighty thousand of them, which he had 
happened emotionally to embrace. 

Verbal superstition could hardly go further. 



It is necessary to inspect another statement made 
at this White House conference. On this occasion 
the follow dialogue was recorded: 

Senator McCumber: "Would our moral conviction of 
the unrighteousness of the German war have brought us 
into this war if Germany had not committed any acts against 
us without the League of Nations, as we had no League of 
Nations at that time? " 

The President: " I hope it would, eventually, Senator, as 
things developed." 

Senator McCumber: " Do you think that if Germany had 
committed no act of war or no act of injustice against our 
citizens we would have gotten into this war? " 

The President: " I do think so." 

I 5 8 



SYMBOLISM 

Senator McC umber: " You think we would have gotten 

anyway ? " 

The President: " I do." 



This statement has been savagely attacked for its 
inconsistency with hundreds of declarations in an op- 
posite made by a President reelected on the slogan 
" He kept us out of war." 

Mr. Wilson's answer to Mr. McCumber was, 
however, probably nothing more than what is recog- 
nized by psychoanalysts as the projection of a wish- 
phantasy into the past. Every one is prone to im- 
agine that he did what he wished he had done. In 
a certain type of mind, under certain conditions, this 
imagination is likely to become vivid. It would be 
a natural operation for a mind like Mr. Wilson's 
to credit its present sentiments with an existence at 
the very time when their opposites were actually in 
control, and to do so with entire sincerity. 

The members of the Senate Committee on Foreign 
Relations spent four hours with the President, play- 
ing hide-and-go-seek and blind-man's bluff. The 
stenographic report of the Conference is an enter- 
taining document. " What is the use," explained 
one Senator as he left the White House, " what is the 
use of trying to draw information from a mind which 
functions like that! " The Senator meant that the 
President was talking in symbols, and his interlocu- 
tors had come for facts. Mr. Wilson had always 

159 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

talked in symbols. He is a practiced artist in ob- 
nubilation. The emotions of the bewildered Sena- 
tors must have been akin to those experienced by 
certain Princeton students forty-one years before. 
They had been talking theology. 

" Some question then arose about the flood ; 

Tom Wilson spoke, and all was clear as — mud." 



1 60 



V 

PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

ONE of the most clearly marked character- 
istics of the brain temporarily or consti- 
tutionally incapacited for fixed attention 
is the inability to resist the fatal fascination of 
sounds. " The mattoid hears a word and feels com- 
pelled to repeat it; or it calls into his consciousness 
other words similar to it in sound, but not connected 
with it in meaning, or with only a remote and weak 
connection." I am quoting from Professor Nor- 
dau's Degeneration. It is an axiom with all psy- 
chologists that if the normal mind is occupied with 
an idea which it clearly discerns and desires to im- 
part, it will infallibly find the means of imparting 
that idea in definite language. If the idea is not 
definite, if the will of the writer or speaker is not 
resolute to impart the idea, if his control of his men- 
tal processes lies not within himself, but lies subject 
to casual circumstances, then the expression that 
flows from him will betray its desultory character by 
departures from the fixed highway of thought in 
favor of every inviting shadowy by-path. 

161 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

The same behavior will characterize the writer 
or speaker who is beset by doubts. He will find 
welcome relief from the necessity of explicit speech 
in trailing sounds, instead of pursuing thought. In 
the case of chronic, constitutional psychic schism, 
whose victim's mind is a house divided against itself, 
the constant pressure of contending emotions will 
early teach it that trick and confirm it in the com- 
fortable habit of its practice. If it be asked why the 
schizophrenic does not abstain from speech, the an- 
swer is that he above all others is likely to feel the 
necessity of it, seeking to resolve his complexes, or 
to prove to himself that he has none. 

At this point, it would be in order to investigate 
Mr. Wilson's heliotropism towards certain sounds. 
That his writings and especially his speeches show 
special tympanic sensitiveness to the charm of four 
or five elements of our speech, I am convinced. The 
subject, however, is difficult, and what investigation 
I have been able to give it has not afforded results 
that would be generally convincing. At this time 
I do no more than throw out the suggestion that a 
little attention will discover what seems to be a 
special affection for the sounds represented by p, v 
and s. 

". . . conduct our operations without passion, and our- 

162 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

selves preserve with />roud punctilio the principles of fair 
play we profess . . ." 

Washington, April 2, 191 7. 

" It would be an unprecedented operation reversing the 
process of Runnymede; but America has before this shown 
the world enlightened process of politics that were without 
precedent." 

Constitutional Government, 53. 

". . . />art of the familiar process of popular government. 
We have learned that pent-up feelings are dangerous; whis- 
kered />ur/>oses that are revolutionary ; that covert follies war/> 
and />oison." 

There exist tables purporting to show how fre- 
quently the several letters and sounds of the lan- 
guage recur in the average normal speech. Every 
one knows that e is the letter most frequently em- 
ployed. The lexicographers profess to be able to 
say what percentage each element of our utterance 
contributes to English speech. If I mistrust these 
statistics, and refrain from citing them, it is not be- 
cause they militate against my suspicions of the 
importance of Mr. Wilson's addictions. Quite 
otherwise; I am suspicious, rather, of the statement 
that the p sound constitutes two per cent, when I 
find that analysis of ten pages, turned to at random, 
in Mr. Wilson's books shows that it occurs three 
times too often. " Proud punctilio," " petty pas- 
sion," " plain purpose," " principle and purpose," 

l6 3 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" process and purpose," " processes and peace," 
fairly haunt these pages. Why should any one talk 
of " the processes by which men purchase place," ex- 
cept for sensuous gratification in the alliteration? 

Other chapters have noticed cases of phonetic 
elaboration based on the sound v. " The vitality 
of a various people' {Congressional Government, 
129) is another fair sample of vibrant phrases with 
the merest ghost of possible meaning. That the s 
sound should very often occur may not be so re- 
markable, seeing that this sibilant is a sort of hydro- 
gen among the elements of language, uniting read- 
ily with more other sounds than does any other con- 
sonant. Nevertheless, there may be ground for sus- 
picion in many passages of which the following is an 
example : 

". . . struggling step by step up the slow stages to the 
day when he shall live in the light which shines upon the 
uplands, where all the light that illumines mankind shines 
straight from the face of God." 

Washington, Oct. 24th., 19 14. 



Another field of investigation which promises to 
be fruitful, but which we must pass with a mere 
reference to its existence, is offered by the extremely 
frequent allusion to the pulses and the tides. 

164 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

" When the tide is rising to meet the moon, you need not 
be afraid that it will not come to its flood. We feel the 
tide. We rejoice in the strength of it." 

". . . those of us who have felt the beat of its pulse." 

Mr. Wilson's published writings show many hun- 
dred allusions of this kind to recurrent impulses. 
Whether these are significant, and if so, of what 
they are significant, I shall not here pause to investi- 
gate. I fancy, however, there is not lacking a con- 
nection between this constantly confessed interest 
in the rhythmic throbs of nature and their imita- 
tion in the acousmatic pulsations which very shortly 
we shall be studying. 



There can be no question that Mr. Wilson, having 
once uttered a favorite word, is tempted to repeat 
it. It cannot long escape the notice of an attentive 
reader of any writing, or listener to any speech, of 
his, that the verbal addictions tend to constellate. If 
we get " visions " once, we are pretty certain to get 
it several times; " aspect " will be used for the first 
time in a book, and then will be well worked for 
three or four pages; " interpret" will bob up sud- 
denly, and show itself half a dozen times. " Great" 
will run along for a page or two. And so on. I 
have memoranda showing many instances in which 
when " visions " disappeared, " voices " took their 

165 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

place; and in which " great " ran off into " grave "; 
one set of notes in which " sheer," which had not 
before in the volume appeared, was used four times, 
and was shortly followed by as many employments of 
" sturdy." " Common counsel " generally gathers 
to itself the companionship of " concert," " coopera- 
ate ' or " compound." Running rapidly through 
Congressional Government for illustrations of 
" counsel," my attention was struck by the fact that 
one page which contained " light of counsel," "mat- 
ter of counsel," " matters of counsel," and " men 
of counsel," also exhibited " intimate use of his 
colleagues," " intimate daily consultations," and 
" intimate and peculiar sense." Closely following 
pages gave : 

intimate consciousness, 

intimate cooperation, 

intimate and cordial cooperation, 

intimate and confidential, 

intimate relationship of confidence, 

intimate contact, 

intimate understanding, 

intimate consultation, 

intimate influence, 

intimate access, 

intimate contact, 

intimate access, 

intimate consultation, 

166 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

intimate relationship of confidence, 
intimate understanding, 
intimate influence, 

and then came a page and a half which presented 
this : 

intimate and domestic process, 
intimate and detailed process, 
intimate measures, 
our processes, 
own processes, 
real processes. 

It would justly be deemed fanciful to attach sig- 
nificance to what might be a few coincidences like 
these, but when they occur by the thousand and in 
every work, it is necessary to ask their reason. It 
ought, by now, to be unnecessary to say that a phe- 
nomenon so pronounced is indicative of laziness, 
fatigue or restrained cerebration. There is some- 
thing going on besides free thinking. 



A step lower than servility to that fascination of 
sounds which suggests unreasoning alliteration or 
rhyme, is addiction to the unaltered repetition of a 
combination of sounds. It requires more intellec- 
tuation to pun than it does merely to repeat a word. 

167 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

When phonetic intoxication reaches the point 
where it can only repeat the word, it passes into the 
stage of intellectual feebleness known among alien- 
ists as " echolalia." The symptoms of this dis- 
order are familiar to psychiatry, and it may be said 
that some of our most famous literary idols are 
among the patients whom it has afflicted. Others 
deliberately adopt the practice, in the knowledge that 
it is popularly effective. 

There is of course ample justification for the 
occasional resort to verbal repetition. It is occa- 
sionally recommended by reason, it is more often 
justified by controlled emotion. Especially in 
poetry is the refrain, or repetend, often extraordi- 
narily effective in perfectly reasonable and proper 
ways. Its legitimacy in prose becomes a question 
largely of the frequency of its use. For not only 
does the presumption lie against the necessity, or 
even the possible justification, of its too frequent 
use, but it has the suspicious qualities of a mechanical, 
automatic and unrational habit, betraying brain fa- 
tigue or degeneration. Employment of the refrain 
cannot be regarded as pathologic unless its fre- 
quency reveals it as an addiction; it will be safely 
recognizable as a true mania, indeed, only when 
the addiction is extravagant, amounting to an ob- 
session. 

Nevertheless, that some taint of irrationality al- 

168 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

ways attaches to the refrain is confessed in the fol- 
lowing paragraph from the pen of its best known 
poetic master, Edgar Allan Poe: 

" In carefully thinking over all the usual artistic effects — 
or more properly points, in the theatrical sense — I did not 
fail to perceive immediately that none had been so uni- 
versally employed as that of the refrain. The universality 
of its employment sufficed to assure me of its intrinsic value 
and spared me the necessity of submitting it to analysis. I 
considered it, however, with regard to its susceptibility of 
improvement, and soon saw it to be in a primitive condition. 
As commonly used, the refrain . . . depends for its impres- 
sion upon the force of monotone, both in sound and thought. 
The pleasure is deduced solely from the sense of identity, of 
repetition. ... I determined to produce novel effects . . . 
The next desideratum was a pretext ... I did not fail to 
perceive that the difficulty lay in the reconciliation of this 
monotony with the exercise of reason on the part of the crea- 
ture repeating the word." 

The above extract is a poet's profession of his 
confidence in the psychologic power of the repetend; 
also of the difficulties which he encountered in en- 
deavoring to make the repetend reasonable. Poe 
solved the difficulty by putting the refrain into the 
mouth of an unreasoning creature. It was a raven 
who persisted in saying, " Never, nevermore." 

Tennyson loved the repetend, but he had the 
sound sense to justify it by connecting it with in- 

169 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

animate and unreasoning objects: the wind, the tide, 
the bugle. 

Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 
Blow, blow, breathe and blow, 

Blow him again to me. 

Break, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, Oh, Sea! 

Blow, bugle, blow, Set the wild echoes flying; 
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, Dying, dying, dying. 

Shakespeare was fond of the refrain, but he took 
care to put it into the mouths of clowns and idiots. 
It is the impish Ariel who sings : 

Come unto these yellow sands 

And then take hands; 
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd 

(The wild waves whist) 
Foot it featly here and there ; 
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. 

Hark, hark! 

Bowgh, wowgh, 
The watch-dogs bark: 

Bowgh, wowgh. 
Hark, hark, I hear 
The strains of strutting chanticleer, 
Cry, Cock-a-doodle doo. 
170 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

It is into the mouths of weird sisters dancing 
around the devil's pot that Shakespeare puts the 
dolorous refrain: 

Double, double, toil and trouble; 
Fire burn, and caldron, bubble. 

They are grave-digging clowns, in Hamlet, who 
howl : 

A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade, 

For and a shrouding sheet : 
O a pit of clay for to be made 

For such a guest is meet. 

• •••••• 

O a pit of clad for to be made 
For such a guest is meet. 

But reasoning creatures, in Shakespeare's repre- 
sentation of them, do not, ordinarily, intone refrains 
— unless it may be deliberately, like King Henry 
VI imitating a stupid shepherd: 

O God ! methinks it were a happy life, 
To be no better than a homely swain ; 
To sit upon a hill as I do now, 
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point. 
Thereby to see the minutes how they run : — 
How many make the hour full complete ; 
How many hours bring about the day, 
How many days will finish up the year ; 

171 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

How many years a mortal man may live. 

When this is known, then divide the times, — 

So many hours must I tend my flock ; 

So many hours must I take my rest; 

So many hours must I contemplate; 

So many hours must I sport myself, 

So many days my ewes have been with young; 

So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; 

So many years ere I shall shear the fleece, 

But this is intention. The refrain is consciously 
employed as representing the sullen waves that 
listlessly move in the dull mind of the hind. Shake- 
speare's most easily recognizable comic characters 
talk like this: 

Shallow: It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well said 
indeed too. It is good; yea, indeed, is it: good 
phrases are surely, and ever were, very com- 
mendable, very good; a good phrase. 

Bardolph: Pardon me, sir; I have heard the word. Phrase 
call you it? by this good day, I know not the 
phrase; but I will maintain the word with my 
sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of 
exceeding good command, by heaven. Accom- 
modated ; that is, when a man is, being, whereby 
a' may be thought to be accommodated ; which is 
an excellent thing. 



172 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

Shal: Barren, barren, barren; beggars all, beggars all, 

Sir John: marry, good sir. Spread, Davy; 
spread, Davy ; well said, Davy. . . . 
A good varlet, a good varlet, a very good varlet, 
Sir John : by the mass, I have drunk too much 
sack at supper: a good varlet. Now sit down, 
now sit down. 

The English poet selected by Nordau as a type 
of the degenerate is Rossetti, and the chief stigma 
of his degeneracy is his predilection to the unjusti- 
ficable refrain: Nordau's analysis condemns as path- 
ological even the youthful lines of William Morris 
whose music has haunted my memory for many a 
year: 

Gold on her head and gold on her feet, 

And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet, 
And a golden girdle around my sweet. 

'Tis good to think of her sitting there 

In glory of gold and glory of hair, 
And glory of glorious face most fair. 

Poe, though born in Boston, is accounted a Vir- 
ginian. His contribution to American letters was 
perhaps principally his demonstration of the hypnotic 
power of the refrain. Nothing could surpass the 
emotional effect of The Bells or of the raven's 
"Nevermore!" Poe did not by any means always 

173 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

put his refrains into the mouths of bells and birds. 
Often they are frankly expressive of madness, ac- 
tual or impending, as in The Haunted Palace and 
The Conquering Worm. 

It is in a poem depicting the summit of madness 

— the madness of a lover who fancies himself dead 

— that Poe most daringly employs the refrain: 

And oh ! let it never be foolishly said 

That my room it is gloomy, and narrow my bed ; 

For man never slept in a different bed, 

And, to sleep, you must slumber in just such a bed. 

And I lie so composedly now in my bed 

(Knowing her love) that you fancy me dead; 

And I rest so contentedly now in my bed 

(With her love at my heart) that you fancy me dead; 

That you shudder to look at me, thinking me dead. 



But how slender the contribution of the Virginian 
Poe to the literature of refrain compared with the 
contribution made to it by another Virginian. I 
pick up the official report of the address made by 
Mr. Wilson in Boston, February 25th, 19 19. 

11 I have seen earnestness, I have seen tears come to the eyes 
of men . . . but they were not the tears of anguish — they 
were the tears of ardent hope. 

" Was there ever so wonderful a thing seen before ? Was 

174 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

there ever so moving a thing? Was there ever any fact . . ." 

The next paragraph : 

" They remember territory that was coveted ; they remem- 
ber rights that it was attempted to extort ; they remember po- 
litical ambitions which it was attempted to realize . . ." 

A little further along: 

" Think of the picture, think of the utter blackness that 
would fall on the world. America has failed! America 
made a little essay at generosity and then withdrew. Amer- 
ica said : ' We are your friends,' but it was only for to- 
day, not for to-morrow. America said : ' Here is our 
power to vindicate right,' and then the next day said: ' Let 
right take care of itself and we will take care of ourselves.' 
America said: 'We set up a light to lead men ... we 
set up a great ideal ... do you rtalize ... do you believe 
... do you believe. . . .' " 

The next paragraph but one : 

" It (the burden of the war) did not fall upon the national 
treasuries; it did not fall upon the instruments of adminis- 
tration ; it did not fall upon the resources of the nations." 

The next paragraph but one : 

" There is a great deal of harmony to be got out of com- 
mon knowledge. There is a great deal of sympathy to be got 
out of living in the same atmosphere." 

175 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

And then soon follows: 

" The Europe that I left the other day was full of some- 
thing that it had never felt fill its heart so full before. It 
was full of hope. The Europe of the second year of the 
war, the Europe of the third year of the war, was sinking 
to a sort of stubborn desperation. They (he means ' it ') 
did not see any great thing to be achieved even when the war 
should be won. They hoped there would be some salvage; 
they hoped they could clear their territories of invading 
armies; they hoped they could set up their homes and start 
their industries afresh. But they thought it would simply 
be the resumption of the old life that Europe had led — led 
in fear, led in anxiety, led in constant suspicious watchful- 
ness." 

The words quoted above are not selected; they 
are reproduced accurately from what must have 
been one of the most carefully considered speeches 
of Mr. Wilson's career, though, in fact, this hap- 
pened to be the speech delivered on the day when 
these pages were written. 

Is this cool reason, marshaled by a collected 
mind; or is it, let us say, mental fatigue, exhausting 
itself in monotonous reiteration? Would it have 
been seriously listened to except by the swaying 
masses of a vast audience, emotionalized by a great 
occasion, persuaded by the unchallenged prestige of 
the speaker, and hypnotized by the soothing wash of 
words? 

176 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

" I did not fail to perceive," said the southern 
poet, " that the difficulty lay in the reconciliation of 
this monotony with the exercise of reason on the 
part of the creature repeating the word." The 
desideratum was a pretext. Poe found his pretext 
in a parrot; he might have found it in a President. 

Turn to any speech, state paper, lecture or book 
ever composed by Mr. Wilson, and you may depend 
upon it with absolute certainty that you will find 
him talking like this: "We are here ... we are 
here ... we are here." " I remember ... I re- 
member ..." "It is not. ... It is not. . . . 
It is not. ..." " The thing they did was to. 
. . . The thing they did was to . . . The thing they 
did was to ... " " America asks. . . . America 
asks. ..." "A message of ... a message of 
..." " Think of the . . . think of the . . . 
think of the. ..." " Never before has . . . 
never before has. ..." 

" America has a heart and that heart throbs with all sorts 
of intense sympathies, but America has schooled its heart to 
love things that America believes in and it ought to devote 
itself only to what America believes in ; and believing that 
America stands apart in its ideals, it ought not to allow itself 
to be drawn, as far as its heart is concerned, into anybody's 
quarrel. Is it America first or is it not? " 

" We remind you what America said she was born for. 
She said she was born to show mankind the way to liberty. 

177 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

She was born to make this great gift a common gift. She 
was born to show men ..." 

" It has witnessed a great history, has floated on high the 
symbol of great events, of a great plan of life worked out by 
great people." 

11 These are days of very great perplexities, when a great 
crowd of trouble hangs and broods over the greater part 
of the world. It seems as if great material forces were . . ." 

11 Not a hundred years of peace could have knitted this na- 
tion together as this single year of war has knitted it together; 
and it is knitting the world together." 

11 It is a problem which must be studied, studied immedi- 
ately, studied without bias." 

" It means much more than the mere success of a party. 
The success of a party means little except when the nation 
is using that party for a large and definite purpose. The 
nation now seeks to use the Democratic party. It seeks to 
use the Democratic party because . . ." 

" Men's hearts wait upon us ; men's lives hang in the bal- 
ance; men's hopes call upon us." 

" A message of genuine comradeship, a message of genuine 
sympathy, and I have no doubt that if our British comrades 
were here they would speak in the same spirit and the same 
language. For the beauty of this war is that it has brought 
a new partnership and a new comradeship and a new under- 
standing." 

" We ought not to permit that sort of thing to use up the 
electric energy of the wires because its energy is malign, its 
energy is not of the truth, its energy is of mischief. The 
great heart of the American people is just as sound and true 

i 7 8 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

as it ever was. And it is a single heart; it is the heart of 
America. It is not a heart, etc., etc." 

" If I did not believe that, I would (should) not believe in 
democracy. If I did not believe that, I would not believe 
that people can govern themselves. If I did not believe that 
the moral judgment would be the last judgment, the final 
judgment, I could not believe in popular government. But I 
do believe these things, and therefore I earnestly believe in 
democracy." 

" Lawyers like charted seas, and if they have no charts, 
hardly venture upon the voyage. Now we must venture 
upon uncharted seas to some extent in the future. In the 
League of Nations, we are starting out on uncharted seas." 

" You have made me deeply happy by the generous wel- 
come extended to me. But I do not believe that the welcome 
you have extended to me is half as great as that which I ex- 
tend to you. . . . There have been many things that soft- 
ened my homesickness. One of the chief things that softened 
it was the very generous welcome that they extended to me, 
and it was still more softened by the pride, . . . When I got 
there I saw that army of men, that army of clean men, that 
army of men devoted to the highest interests of humanity, 
that army one was glad to point out. . . . They did not walk 
the streets like anybody else. I do not mean that they 
walked the streets self-assertively. They walked the streets 
as if they knew that . . . But while these things softened 
my homesickness, they made me all the more eager to get 
home where the rest of the folks live ; to get home where the 
great dynamo of national energy was situated ; to get home 
where the great purposes of national action were formed. 

179 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

. . . Those peoples of Europe have had yokes thrown off 
them. Have )'ou reckoned up in your mind how many peo- 
ples, how many nations, were held unwillingly under the 
yoke of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, under the yoke of 
Turkey, under the yoke of Germany? The yokes have been 
thrown off . . ." 

" It is a great privilege if we can do that kind of thinking 
for mankind, human thinking, thinking made up of compre- 
hension of the needs of mankind. And when I think of man- 
kind, I think of the very simple men that make up man- 
kind. Most specimens of mankind are not well-dressed. 
The heart of the world is under very plain jackets. The 
heart of the world is at very simple firesides. The heart 
of the world is in very humble circumstances, and un- 
less you know the pressure of life of the humbler class you 
know nothing of life. Unless you know where the pinch 
comes you do not know what the (person, pinch, p — ) what 
the pulse has to stand, you do not know what (stand, st — ) 
strain the muscle has to bear, you do not know what trial 
the nerves have to go through to hold on. To hold on when 
there is no glee in life. Those of us who can sit at leisure 
and think of the past, the long past and project the future, the 
long future, we are not specimens of mankind. The speci- 
mens of mankind have not time to do that." 

This may not be profoundly logical, but consider 
how beautifully tautological! 

" Women have seen visions of duty, and that is something 
which we not only cannot resist, but which we Americans do 

180 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

not wish to resist. America took its origin in visions of the 
human spirit and as visions, etc., etc." 

". . . be from age to age rekindled. For these hopes 
must constantly be rekindled, and only those who live can 
rekindle them. The only stuff that can retain the life-giving 
heat is the stuff of living hearts." 

And what does that mean? What is the " stuff " 
of living hearts, — is it wool, cotton? How does 
that " stuff " retain heat, and how is that heat life- 
giving? Is this rational thought? 

"... a new spirit of which the world has never seen ; not 
the spirit of those who would exclude others, but the spirit 
of those who would excel others." 

Is this rhythmic regurgitation, this ponderous rag- 
time, a produce of the mind? 

the spirit of those who would ex J ' lothers? 

l cel J 

Here is another: 

"Valor is self-respecting; valor is circumspect." 

Is it not pretty clear how this sentence came into 
being? The speaker uttered the word " valor." 
When Mr. Wilson is in doubt, he often falls back 
on words beginning with the v sound. According to 
habit, he felt valor must be labeled with its attri- 

181 




THE STORY OF A STYLE 

butes. He had been talking about being self- 
ashamed. Valor was not that; quite the contrary: 
valor was "self-respecting." The rest did itself: 
The echo needed only to be slightly muted to issue 
as " circumspect." Then, until an idea came, the 
sibilant carried on — happily s is the sound which of 
all sounds in the English language combines most 
readily with others. So, with two echoes going, one 
of a word exactly repeated, the other an extended 
sound in varying combinations, we can do nicely, 
thank you, without troubling the mind or the will : 

"Valor is self-respecting; valor is circumspect. Valor 
strikes solely when it is the right to strike. Valor with- 
holds itself from all small implications and entanglements 
and waits." 

What possible rational message is conveyed to the 
intelligence when this repercussion of sounds as- 
sails the ear? When, where, how, in what sense, by 
what conceivable exercise or stretch of reason, im- 
agination or fancy, does valor withhold itself from 
all small implications and entanglements, and wait? 
When was valor specially circumspect and self-re- 
specting? Can it be pretended that this acoustic 
concatenation represents the progress of a reasoning 
mind towards any valid result? Is this laziness, or 
contempt for the audience or — echolalia? 

I mean to suggest that the quotation is irrational 

182 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

rubbish, and that it came into existence solely be- 
cause the intellectual controls of the speaker were 
temporarily paralyzed, leaving the motor appara- 
tus to function automatically, passing from sound 
to sound like a drowsy monk nodding as he drones 
his compline. There is no relevancy in " circum- 
spect " to what goes before it; no relevancy to it in 
what follows. There is no propriety in the whole 
sequence except its sibilance; " strikes," "with- 
holds," " entanglements," " implications," " waits," 
are dying echoes of " self-respecting " and " circum- 
spect." The echoes linger on still for a line or two 
until the inhibition passes and a real image emerges. 

" Valor waits for the great opportunity when the sword 
shall flash as if it carried the light of Heaven upon its 
blade." 



A scrutiny of Mr. Wilson's writings and speeches 
obliges us to notice that: 

His ideation often appears casual, fugitive — 
determined, not always by the inner will to hew and 
pursue a path of logical thought, but by extrinsic 
and apparently fortuitous circumstances, such as the 
sound of a chance word calling up another, for the 
employment of which now some excuse must be in- 
vented; such as the imagined necessity for the con- 
tinual exploitation of pedantic formulae or the cling- 

183 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

ing to a symbol; such as a sudden recollection which 
invites entertainment, a sudden caprice of the mood 
which asks indulgence. Over and over are we com- 
pelled to witness the absence of control of the cur- 
rents of rational thought; over and over called upon 
to observe the relaxation of the attention or the 
will of the writer, whose nodding indifference or 
perplexed despair permits casual associations to di- 
rect the procession of what we cannot call his thought. 
The ensuing idea springs, too often, not out of an 
ordered march of cerebration, but out of the sound, 
or out of some semi-relevant connotation, some 
collateral association, some oblique glance, of a word. 
Why is this? What is the secret of this impairment 
of the will? 

A well-known illustration of rambling thought is 
that immortal one put by Mark Twain into the lips 
of an intoxicated story-teller attempting to narrate 
an accident which befell his grandfather's ram. 
The toxins of fatigue, sporadic and temporary, or 
constitutional, have somewhat the same effect. 
Ideas succeed each other evoked as often phonetically 
as rationally. The will to persevere in a given path 
flickers and is inconstant. There is small pertina- 
city of attention. There is no faithful persistence 
in selecting for response from among the many im- 
pressions constantly assailing the brain-cortex that 
one which reason requires. There is lacking the 

184 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

stern discipline of attention which refuses to be 
beguiled by sonorous associations or beckoning 
images from the idea to which the advance of the 
thought has now led. 

Precisely similar is the ideation of the dreamer — 
as all know and can testify. Rambling and confused 
images, thoughts, desires and fears crowd one on 
another. They are not marshaled into order by a 
controlling will. That is the secret of dreams — 
the will is paralyzed. How? By what? By con- 
tending impulses. Sleep dimishes the vigilance of 
the accustomed repressive watch we keep on our un- 
conscious urges. Primitive instincts, " forgotten " 
unadmitted wishes, assert themselves as they dare 
not in daytime. In the emotional contest, the power 
of determination is unseated; the sequence of ideas 
ceases to take its orders from reason, ceases to re- 
port to reason. No doubt there is an explanation 
for every dream and every feature of a dream, how- 
ever apparently casual — just as there is no doubt an 
explanation, if we had the time and the skill to find 
it, for every echolalic fortuity. Nothing is cause- 
less, but the cause of many things is not to be found 
in orderly processes of an undisturbed mind. 

Sounds, by the way, play a very important part 
in dreams. Very slight noises are instantly seized 
upon in sleep, and interpreted in some strange con- 
nection with the subject which agitates the confused 

i8 5 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

brain of the sleeper. Just as sounds are readily 
accepted by the wide-awake tonal addict in any one 
of a wide range of meanings that happens to be 
floating in his brain. The rumble of a milk-wagon 
may have as many and as plausible possibilities of 
significance to a dreamer as the word " process " 
has for Mr. Wilson. The following sentence, taken 
from Nordau's Degeneration, was written to de- 
scribe the sound-symbolist; but it might precisely as 
well have had the dreamer as its subject: "A 
mystic persuades himself that the nebulous ideas 
which a sound awakens in his brain are the meaning 
of that sound. But any one who demands of words 
that they should be the media of definite thought 
will perceive that the author was not thinking dis- 
tinctly of anything, although he was dreaming of 
many things." 



The phenomenon of echolalia is one which is per- 
fectly familiar to psychiatrists. Illustrations of it 
from Mr. Wilson's writings might be multiplied a 
thousand fold. They reveal a phase of the author's 
character and mentality, the psychic and mental 
significance of which it is impossible to ignore. 
Naturally, the alienists and psychoanalysts, being 
professionally in quest of degeneracy, are prone 
to magnify the seriousness of a symptom which is 

186 



PHONETIC PHENOMENA 

quite capable of a more sympathetic explanation. 
Complacency, languor, fatigue, may often account 
for even extravagant addiction to the refrain. It 
is really not necessary to look upon it as in the or- 
dinary sense pathological. But it is necessary to 
confess that wherever the seat of this addiction, it 
is not in reason. 



187 



VI 

DOUBT AND THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

INTERROGATION, as a literary device, has a 
singular fascination for Mr. Wilson. It is 
difficult — I find it impossible — to recall a 
writer who asks and answers so many questions : 

" Do you not know . . . ? " 

"Are we not obliged to say . . .?" 

" What does this mean but that . . .?" 

11 May I not express . . . ? " 

" Have you heard what started the present war? If you 
have, I wish you would publish it, because nobody else has, 
so far as I can gather." (Cincinnati, October 26, 19 16.) 

" Is it worth while to stop to think of party advantage? 
Is it worth while stopping to think of how we voted in the 
past?" 

" Have you reckoned up in your mind how many . . .? " 

"Where did the lines of that map lie? " 

" And now what happened? " 

11 Are the United States a community? " 

" Does not every American feel that . . .? " 

" Dare we reject it and break the heart of the world? " 

188 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

* And have you not noticed that . . . ? " 

" What is the ohject of this association? " 

". . . Do you not know that these things are true ? And 
do you not believe with me that the affairs of the Nation 
can be better conducted upon the basis of general counsel than 
upon the basis of special counsel? " 

" What shall a man give in exchange for his soul ? Will 
he sell that? Will he consent to see another man sell his 
soul? Will he consent to see the conditions of his community 
such that men's souls are debauched and trodden under foot 
in the mire? What shall he give in exchange for his soul, 
or for any other man's soul? " 

" Are the forces that fight for the nation dispersed ? Are 
our forces disorganized ? Are we content to lie still? " 

" Whom do I command ? The ghostly forces who fought 
upon these battlefields ? These gallant gentlemen stricken in 
years . . .? What are the orders and who rallies them? " 

" How shall we hold such thoughts in our hearts and not 
be moved ? " 

" How many of you have devoted yourself to the like ad- 
venture? How many of you will volunteer . . .? How 
many of you will forego . . .? Do you covet honor? You 
will never get it by serving yourself. Do you court distinc- 
tion? You will get it only . . ." 

" Do you not see what is going to happen ? Do you real- 
ize that New York . . .? Do you realize that a line 
down . . . ? " 

This life-long habit can hardly be dismissed as 
merely a rhetorical fomula. Like every other habit, 

189 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

it has a reason and a meaning. If it is a formula, 
it is one which has been adopted and is followed 
either deliberately or unconsciously and, in either 
case, because some taste, some feature of mental 
constitution, recommends it. 



The practice of raising and answering questions, 
as Mr. Wilson follows it, may be described as a simu- 
lation of combat. If the queries were propounded 
to an adversary, and he were challenged to answer 
them, the combat would be real. Or if the replies 
were replies to questions propounded by an adver- 
sary. But here the questioner and the triumphant 
resolver of questions are one. The opponent is a 
straw-man. His challenges are made solely and 
only in order that they may be triumphantly an- 
swered. The debate is fictitious; the combat is a 
sham-battle. Usually the answer is implied in the 
question. "Do you not know?' Of course you 
do. " What were we told? " Why, of course we 
were told what you are about to repeat. 

As a rhetorical device, the question-and-answer 

formula serves to stimulate interest in the audience 

(if not used so often as to become tiresome) ; it at 

the same time generates a glow in the breast of 

the speaker, as he assumes the posture of a gladiator, 

190 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

and enters by fancy, and in the Thespian sense, into 
a little of his spirit. Furthermore, it gives the 
orator time; it allows him to stretch out his state- 
ments and repeat them; thus it is suspicious as an 
evidence of fatigue, or indolence, — which latter also 
it encourages. It is a lazy habit, certainly, what- 
ever else may be said of it, just as is the confirmed 
employment of the refrain. Indeed the question- 
and-answer habit is a modified form of the echolalic 
addiction. That is perfectly evident, without argu- 
ment. Its significance, in this aspect, has been suffi- 
ciently studied under the clearer declarative illus- 
trations of the repetend addiction in which our au- 
thor's work is phenomenal. 



I am disposed, however, to see something more 
in this constant recurrence of the question-and- 
answer device. 

It would not be violent to assume that the con- 
firmed public habit corresponds to an inner private 
tendency — that, namely, to alternations between a 
positive and a doubting attitude — between the as- 
sertive impulse and the faint-hearted mood. The 
existence and struggle in Mr. Wilson's psychical life 
of these contradictory pulses we have already, by 
other marks, been led to suspect. It would be un- 

191 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

natural for a man whose inner consciousness enter- 
tains no questions, to be forever proposing questions, 
whenever he speaks or writes. 

We should not, probably, expect anybody except a 
philosopher to exhibit and debate in public the par- 
ticular questions which were troubling him. Es- 
pecially if he had to maintain a public character as 
an executive ; more especially, if he were sensitive on 
the point of a lack of conviction. Experience 
teaches that men take pains to conceal their most 
painful doubts — even from themselves. It is 
much pleasanter to debate, even with ourselves, sub- 
jects on which our opinions are fixed without possi- 
bility of change. The degree of our irresolution on 
a given question may almost be said to be indexed by 
the ingenuity with which we refuse to debate it, and 
the fervor of our protestations of resolution con- 
cerning it. 

Of course we do not get in Mr. Wilson's questions 
and answers any account of his real struggles. He is 
not a Socrates, a Hamlet or an Amiel, whom we 
overhear thinking. At the utmost he allows himself 
to utter aloud any serious misgivings only in order to 
confirm himself in some conclusion by publicly com- 
mitting himself to it. 

No, not the particular subjects of doubt will be 
revealed; but may not the habit of doubt be revealed 
by an addiction so pronounced as Mr. Wilson's to 

192 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

the mimic fray of words? May not the unreal ver- 
bal contest with himself, from which the victor 
emerges in easy and smiling victory over himself, 
represent and cover something very much more real 
and tragic in his secret inner life? 



Would it be strange if our studies led us to sus- 
pect that Mr. Wilson's is really a character of a pe- 
culiar instability of judgment and weakness of will? 

— that of a man torn by conflicting emotions, shaken 
by doubts of himself and his every thought and act, 
haunted by a never-to-be extinguished apprehension 
of his own inferiority? 

On that very account, and for that very reason, 
just because he secretly knew himself to be a man 
of irresolution, would he never suffer himself to be- 
tray the fact. It may be taken that he would guard 
the secret — even from himself, too, of course — 
with the most elaborate, jealous and never-slumber- 
ing vigilance. It may be taken indeed that just be- 
cause he were actually of vacillating opinion and 
courage would he constantly force himself to play 
the part of unwavering resolution — to overplay it 

— with loud reiteration of his conclusions and his 
will, with denunciation of those who might suggest to 
him what he knew were already his own doubts, or 
recommend an opposite course which he subcon- 

193 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

sciously knew he would rather be pursuing. There 
would be heard in his words never a single confession 
of wavering doubt; but there might well be audible 
(what no art or sleepless vigilance could hush) in the 
incorrigible recurrence of trivial or contentless ques- 
tions, a dream-like echo of the perplexed surges that 
beat in the distraught soul which is the essence and 
the tragedy of his story. 



In such a suspicion, suggested now again by our 
studies, we do no violence to our common knowledge 
of human nature, of ourselves if we are at all sincere 
with ourselves, and especially of those characters 
among us which exhibit certain common traits in so 
enlarged a degree that we are tempted to call them 
abnormal. It is a well-known fact that man has a 
tendency to claim, and to claim most loudly, pos- 
session of the very qualities which he secretly knows 
himself to lack. And the claim is made no less for 
his own ear than for the world's. 

A good deal of the entertainment of life has its 
root in this human disposition. Literature pictures 
many Tartarins and Zaglobas; life shows more. So 
notorious is this fact that it is quite commonly, and 
properly, regarded as suspicious to find a man 
boasting. It is assumed that a defect is exhibiting 
the phenomenon of protective coloration. 

194 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

Boasting need not take the naive and vulgar form 
of loud assertion. It may express itself by subtler 
means — by delicate suggestions, far stronger than 
outright protestations; by modest self-depreciation 
too great to be taken at its face. Or it may proclaim 
itself, not by words at all, but by deeds — deeds done 
in defiance of desire. Many a man has committed 
violence just to prove (to himself, also) that he was 
not (what he knew he was) a coward. Many a 
man has been forced to live a long life opposed to 
his strongest instincts and never-slumbering impulses, 
forced by the ironical necessity (imposed not less by 
self-love than by social pressure) of contradicting 
them beyond open question. 

If we remember this truth when we review the 
words and acts of Woodrow Wilson, it will serve 
to remind us that his character it not to be assessed 
immediately in the light of the unquestionable fact 
that he is a man of positive words always, of bold 
deeds often, of stubborn and arrogant bearing by 
habit. 



All this may easily be defensive. 



The degree to which he practices inaccessibility, 
for instance, is so extreme that it is just ground for 

195 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

conjecture : May not this be an effect of a sense of 
inferiority, rather than of superiority? 

The author of Woodrow Wilson: The Story of 
His Life tells how his hero loves to pull an old hat 
over his eyes, turn up his collar and plunge into the 
current of the crowds in city streets. There is 
nothing distasteful to him in the silent touch of the 
people; it is the exchange of communications with 
his equals that he dreads. The biography declares 
that it is his passion, " his fondest habit — the steal- 
ing off to move unknown among throngs, and to 
drink in, in silence, the sense of human strivings, to 
look into the faces of multitudes and listen to their 
voices, one to another." One to another. 

The biography declares that it 

" has not hinted at his shyness, that love of retirement, in- 
herited with the strain of his mother's blood, which had to be 
overcome, with agonizing, before he could commit himself to 
the path of public life, and which still makes the knocking at 
a strange door or the reception of a new caller a real, though 
never a perceptible, effort." 

The biographer's notes here refer to a number 
of instances of shyness narrated to him by Mr. Wil- 
son : one was concerning a call which he failed to 
make on a somewhat distinguished scholar, when 
on a visit abroad. The President of Princeton Uni- 
versity (as he was then) carried a letter of intro- 

196 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

duction to the foreign savant and went to his house 
to present it. Mr. Wilson's courage failed and he 
passed and repassed the house several times, and 
finally paused before it, but with trepidation so 
great that he could not ring the bell; the call was 
never made. It was not an exceptional case. 
" This," Mr. Wilson is quoted as saying, reflec- 
tively, u is why I know so few people I should like 
to have known." 

Is it possible that it is because he dreads the clash, 
even the friendly exchange, of ideas with others, that 
he pretends to dispute with — himself? That it is 
because he shrinks from real contest, that he satis- 
fies his sense of prowess, according to the psychic law 
of compensation, by engaging in mock tournaments? 
I find nothing in my own personal knowledge of Mr. 
Wilson in conflict with this hypothesis. 

Nor would such a conclusion, should these purely 
literary investigations recommend it, be incompatible 
with the facts of Mr. Wilson's public career. The 
President's public acts are familiar at least in broad 
outline, and general knowledge is competent to 
judge whether the suspicion of irresolution and doubt 
of himself is incapable of reconciliation with his be- 
havior. There could of course be no pretense that 
his is a record of palpable cowardice; quite the re- 
verse; the record is, on the whole, one of such au- 
dacity, and so monumental a self-assertion, that it 

197 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

may fairly be said to lend possibility, if it does not 
go to prove, the existence of repressed impulses of 
the opposite nature. Men are not likely to be need- 
lessly stubborn unless they subconsciously feel their 
weakness; it is not those serenely confident of their 
own powers who isolate themselves in stately lone- 
liness; he only need fling defiance into the face of the 
whole world who is struggling with a mortal fear 
the content of which is knowledge of his inferiority. 



There exist in the soul of every individual, im- 
pulses opposed to those which dominate his life. 
They are survivals, many of them, of emotions char- 
acteristic of the primitive, savage, infantile stage of 
human existence. In the light of the latter-day illu- 
mination (such as it is), some of them seem horrid, 
some contemptible, and all inhuman. We put them 
aside; we refuse to admit that they are possible. In 
curious ways, indeed, they often work their revenge, 
but in the large picture of reasoned and ordered 
social existence they are allowed no acknowledged 
part. 

Take the elementary article of the attitude of a 
human soul to the world of hard fact in which it 
awakens, in which it must struggle for existence and 
for reason, by adapting itself to its environment 
while retaining what it can of the pride of individual 

198 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

identity and satisfying so far as it can the instincts 
which command it to fulfill its yearnings. From the 
dawn of his consciousness, man has found himself 
confronted by nature and by the opposing wills of 
other men. How terrible must have been the tor- 
tures of the soul of the primitive savage, mad with 
hunger, panting with lust, raging with desire to slay, 
yet faced at every turn by enemies of his own kind 
and by the invisible enemies of nature, stern, cruel 
and mysterious ! His desires he must satisfy, and 
his soul must clothe itself in resolute rage. But 
what terrors, inconceivable by us now, affrighted 
him; the cunning and strength of living foes (the 
like of whom, indeed, we have now again learned 
to know,) but also the fearful threats which an in- 
visible world howled and thundered and flashed in 
the tempest and more frightfully whispered in 
dreams, in the mystery of the corpse, in the nodding 
tree-tops, the echo, the eternal and never-decided 
battle of day and night, summer and winter. The 
awful mysteries amidst which he lived scorched 
the soul of the savage with a capacity for terror- 
stricken panic which not the ages since in which he has 
grown into something like reason and the confidence 
of reason, have cured. It is there, in the heart of 
man to-day. 

The race has, it is true, suppressed most of its 
specific terrors — except notably that of death, 

199 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

which it continues to allay with the superstition of a 
future life — but it has not conquered the impulse of 
Doubt. It carries on, bravely on the whole; just as 
it declines to countenance the other primitive but 
a-social impulses which have become taboo, so it 
exalts and generally practices confidence, and refuses 
to admit Doubt. The excessive and quite unreason- 
able degree in which we agree in extolling courage, 
the singular applause we reserve for deeds of 
bravery, the irrationality with which we decline to 
condemn rashness — are evidence, of course, of the 
inextinguishable persistence within us of unacknowl- 
edged but dreaded impulses of timidity. 

The history of the dreadful process of the adjust- 
ment by the race of its self-satisfying urges to its 
fate amidst enemies in an unkind world, is re- 
peated in the individual tragedy of every child of 
man who survives to confront life. Consider the in- 
fant emerging with his amazed and angry wail from 
the kind matrix where, without effort of his, pro- 
tection, warmth and nourishment have been provided 
for him, into the world where instantly he faces the 
necessity of exerting himself to overcome conditions 
which do not automatically minister to his wants. 
Among all the later tragedies of life there is prob- 
ably none greater than those which crowd the path 
of the infant's adjustment to the realities of mundane 
existence. The babe is conceived and cradled for 

200 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

months in his secret retreat in unconditioned sov- 
ereignty. His dimmest desires are instantly satis- 
fied, even before he has taken the trouble to feel 
them. He is ushered into the conscious world un- 
der the illusion of omnipotence. How cruel the 
passage into the presence of the realities! What- 
ever the loving solicitude with which it is endeavored 
to initiate him into the rigors of life, how frightful 
the fall from the summit of confidence to the agon- 
ized surprise with which he sees his little realm 
of certainty contract and dissolve ! As soon as he 
begins to suspect the existence of that repressive 
world in which he is fated to the day of his death to 
move, 

" There will be doubt, hesitation and pain, 
Never glad confident morning again." 

The adult mind naturally retains no recollections 
of the tragedy of infancy; refuses to retain them; 
a protective amnesia covers them. But the fear and 
mistrust, then dreadfully born, are deathless. Next 
to the prime impulse of self-assertion, forever 
qualifying it, and forever next to its heart, lying 
ready to paralyze it, is the instinct of Doubt, twin- 
child both of racial and individual birth. 



The enemy of the soul, its desires and its will 

201 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

is — reality. The individual must assert himself, 
must function, in confidence. But tough facts con- 
front him. Shall they be allowed to daunt him? 
Shall the will falter, and desire grow cold, and the 
ghost of possible failure paralyze the facilities? -*>-*■ 

That possibility exists in every human heart. 
Ordinarily a man works out an adjustment between 
his will and the repressions of reality; achieves, and 
is content with, a reasonable satisfaction of his de- 
sires, and contrives to maintain through life a fairly 
consistent attitude of tempered confidence. 

The doubt is always there, but it exists in a state of 
repression. It is, in ordinary time, static. A newly 
learned fact, or a newly admitted idea, may make 
it dynamic; the dangerous fact or idea must be sup- 
pressed; if it be recognized, even to the extent of 
denying it, it may bring the latent impulse into 
action against the ordinarily dominant principle 
which has kept it under and kept it inactive. The 
struggle is disturbing to reason. Both the motive 
which is commonly calmly dominant, and the impulse 
which has been awakened to contumacy, become 
emotionalized. There is no end or limit to the 
delusions, inversions, displacements and all manner 
of wayward curiosities which may be born in the 
agitated soul. They represent an excited effort to 
harbor, and somehow — anyhow — to reconcile, 
contradictory impulses. 

202 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

Conflicts of somewhat this nature are constantly 
going on in us all. 

No description of the everyday life of an average 
normal psychology but must take account of fre- 
quent psychic disturbances. The range of their 
result is usually slight — or, rather, the usual re- 
sults are so familiar as to go unnoticed. The dis- 
turbances are, too, usually of a passing nature; and 
equilibrium is soon restored. In other words, the 
average man maintains on the whole a consistent 
attitude towards reality; he has forced his ambiva- 
lent impulses into a working agreement, and the mo- 
tives which he has enthroned as dominant remain 
so, except in a condition of sleep, intoxication or un- 
usual excitement. His deviations from the settled 
course of thought and action are within narrow 
bounds and are easily adjusted. The hero will per- 
haps not always vanquish his fears; the coward and 
weakling will not invariably play the poltroon. But 
there will be a distinguishable, indeed an unmistak- 
able, preponderance of impulse, a steady current 
toward this pole or toward that. The triumph of 
courage over doubt, of generosity over meanness, or 
the reverse, will have become a habit; the lurking 
denial, the inhibited desire, will have been tamed, 
thrust down, and effaced, so far as its ordinary 
appearance, or its effectual part, is concerned. It 
will not be consulted, nor permitted to intrude, as 

203 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

the triumphant impulses unfold their nature in the 
steadfast, calm, and undebated program of deeds. 
Though the internal conflict will never be utterly 
quelled; though dim and ever dimmer protests of 
denied instincts will still continue their subdued 
clamor, the general ascendancy of one or the other 
character will be evident. 

Unhappy are they who have not achieved that 
degree of customary control over their unadmitted 
impulses which alone can fit man to play a confident 
and consistent part in the human drama. 



And especially unhappy, if to play a conspicuous 
part is their life-ruling ambition. There are indeed 
natures which, if they do not quite rejoice in their 
own internal conflicts, at least find some contentment 
in confessing and observing them, as philosophers; 
who, the native hue of resolution sicklied o'er with 
the pale cast of thought, retire from life, surrender- 
ing the role of participant for that of critic. Far 
more pitable than the philosophic tragedy of a Ham- 
let or an Amiel, is that which is likely to be enacted 
when a soul internally unreconciled is pursued by 
ambition to prove in high action his possession of 
the qualities which he secretly knows he lacks. 

If such a character were to write, we should ex- 
pect a long story of irresolutions, cloaked with pro- 

204 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

testations of positiveness, but betrayed by the habit 
of endless debate — not of the questions actually 
disturbing, however; a confirmed practice of flight 
from reality, the substitution of words for facts, with 
every refinement of reverence for the substituted 
symbol; pleasure in mimic representations of strug- 
gle, betrayals of psychic disturbance in concealed 
hesitation of speech, vagueness, errors, contradic- 
tory tendencies to exaggerate and to qualify, aboulic 
tendencies, and frequent retreat to the infantile stage 
of thought. 

In his character as spread for the perusal of his- 
tory, we should expect an endless series of contra- 
dictions, which, however, would probably each and 
all be carried through, with, in each case, the entirely 
sincere conviction of the semi-personality which at 
the moment ruled; expect a series of apparent in- 
gratitudes towards friends, one by one discarded as 
the settled convictions of their own less disturbed 
minds failed to vacillate with the trepidations which 
agitated his own; of implacable enmities born of sus- 
picion of those who were able to continue in opin- 
ions unshaken by the doubts which he was constitu- 
tionally doomed to experience, enmities which grew 
the more bitter as they were indulged, even through 
a secret sense of shame at their indulgence. 

There are regions of investigation here which it 
is impossible to inspect; common knowledge will in 

205 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

some degree supply the absence of specifically stated 
facts. But certain tracts lie open to literary review. 



Mr. Wilson is known to be extremely fond of the 
theater. Many " great men," occupied with large 
affairs, have found relaxation in viewing the stage 
or in reading cheap novels. 1 What they obtain is 
opportunity for a lusory discharge of their emotions 
without consequences that need be considered, and 
vicarious satisfaction, without effort, of their de- 
sires. The voyeur identifies himself with one or an- 
other character on the stage, and shares the hap- 
piness of his chosen character's virtuous triumph. 
Theater-goers probably take most interest in acts 
which they forbid themselves, and commonly ap- 
plaud sentiments on which, in real life, they do not 
themselves at all proceed. The play affords a con- 
veniently accessible field in which those whose lives 
are monotonous may meet adventure and obtain the 
mental excitement which the necessity of daily toil 
denies them. When an individual, whose life is 
already necessarily full of the dramatic, evinces a 
constant desire to view mimic dramas, it may be 
taken as indicative of a shrinking from struggle, a 
desire to flee the arena of perplexing reality for the 
easier world of phantasy, where he may be sure that 

1 No other public man is known to have set up a moving-picture 
apparatus in his own house and to attend performances daily. 

206 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

all difficulties have been beforehand happily and 
plausibly resolved. 

The nature of the dramatic representations espe- 
cially favored by Mr. Wilson in his hours of relaxa- 
tion would probably be interesting, as pointing to 
particular repressions of his active life. — But that 
is beyond the bounds of this little treatise. Indeed 
this whole excursis is a little afield. I will bring the 
argument back to its proper ground by referring to 
the fact that Mr. Wilson's writings abound in allu- 
sions to the stage. They are simple and monotonous 
allusions, consisting almost entirely in metaphors 
borrowed from the theater; but they are constant 
and inveterate, betraying in every chapter an un- 
conscious propensity of the mind to retreat into the 
mimic life. 

On the top of a pile of Government Printing Of- 
fice pamphlets by the side of my desk lies a copy of 
— let me see — the President's speech in the Sen- 
ate, July 10, 19 19. It will serve. Let us ascer- 
tain whether theatrical figures occur in it. 

A hurried reading notices these : 

". . . the part it seemed necessary for my colleagues and 
me to play at the conference. The part was dictated by the 
role America played in the war." 

". . . the role that America was to play in the conference. 
It was a very responsible role to play." 

207 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" It was thus that a new role and a new responsibility has 
come. The stage is set, the destiny disclosed." 

" They have given me too high a role to play up to." 

From my note books, I transcribe the first dozen 
or so of instances of figures borrowed from stage- 
life: 

(Lincoln) "emerged upon the great stage, himself the 
center of the great plot." 

" The nation has become aware of its role and ambition." 

" It is a process which has gone forward with a noble 
dramatic, even epic, majesty, filling the whole stage of the 
continent with movement." 

" Mr. Cleveland played a leading and decisive part in the 
quiet drama of our national life." 

". . . limited his action in these significant roles." 

11 The role of party leader is forced upon the President." 

" The President has the role of party leader thrust upon 
him." 

" One of the most dramatic and interesting scenes in our 
history ... is that enacted when Andrew Jackson . . ." 

". . . attempts the role of statesman as well, but though 
the roles be combined . . ." 

". . . solemnly taking part in a farce." 

" It looked as if they were entrenched in a fortress ; it 
looked as if the embrasures of the fortress showed the muz- 
zles of guns; but, as I told my good fellow-citizens, all they 
had to do was to press a little upon it and they would find 
that the fortress was a mere cardboard fabric; that it was a 

208 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

piece of stage property, that just so soon as the audience got 
ready to look behind the scenes they would learn that the 
army which had been marching and countermarching in such 
terrifying array consisted of a single company that had gone 
in one wing and around and out at the other wing, and 
could have thus marched in procession for twenty-four hours." 

". . . trod the stage with masterly assurance." 

". . . calmly awaited his cue." 

". . . longed to stretch himself for a little upon the broad 
English stage." 

". . , international forces across the colonial stage here- 
tofore set only for petty and sectional affairs. The colonies 
had grown self-conscious and restless as the plot 
thickened. . . ." 

° The plot is written on every scene and every act of the 
great tragedy." 



The principle of Sport is the simulation of battle. 
While the theater stages a representation of the con- 
flicts of real life for the eye of the beholder, in 
Sport the satisfaction is initially for the players 
themselves. They erect obstacles and organize dif- 
ficulties in a world of pleasant artifice, where the 
results are of no real importance. The pleasure 
lies in the discharge of the emotions of enmity, the 
exercise of predaceous powers, strength and cun- 
ning, and the opportunity of demonstrating superior- 
ity and win badges of honor — all without the risks 

209 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

of actual battle, and all with the added satisfaction 
of knowing that the effort has no taint of useful 
purpose. 

Whether the game be a contest in athletics or in 
gambling, or a descent upon the lower animals, 
imagined as enemies, the element of make-believe is 
everywhere conspicuous. There is usually a cere- 
monious costume, assumed under pretense of utility, 
an accumulation of accoutrement out of rational pro- 
portion to the need; a special language is used; mas- 
cots, charms and luck-gestures are (perhaps half 
playfully) universally employed. 

Of course, in the case of the mere spectators, the 
constituent of pretense has absorbed everything else; 
sitters on the benches imagine themselves partici- 
pants in the game, and even describe themselves as 
u sportsmen." 

" Making-believe " is an infantile exercise — 
" child's play," and addiction to it by adults is a 
symptom of arrested, or diverted, development. 

Mr. Wilson remembered to tell his biographer 
what fun he had had as a boy playing Indian, in 
feathers, face stained with poke-berries, terrifying 
little darkies with tomahawk and war-whoop. 
Every child has done the like. The biography of 
not every one, however, would contain three pages 
about a game like this: 

210 



THE PLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

" Tom (then fifteen,) appears to have retreated here into 
the more exciting scenes of an imaginative life. He forsook 
in mind the streets of the commonplace town and the dreary 
banks of the Congaree, and adventured forth in search of ex- 
ploits in far-off lands. All boys do something of the sort, but 
there can be no doubt that, in the case of this young dreamer, 
the exercise of imagination was constant and vivid and that 
during a great part of his days he lived, so far as his mind 
was concerned, in one or another of the various characters 
which he had invented and assumed. Thus for many months / 
he was an Admiral of the Navy, and in that character wrote 
out daily reports to the Navy Department." 

The biography summarizes the " reports, 1 ' de- 
clares that their realism reminds one of Defoe, 
and remarks upon the " length of time — several 
months — during which the boy lived the greater 
part of his waking hours in the character which he 
had invented." 

Mr. Wilson describes himself as having always 
been a lover of sport. He probably never killed 
an animal, even a squirrel or a fowl, for his pity is 
sincere and his aversion to suffering deep. His name 
does not appear on any college team; but one year 
at Princeton he was president of the Baseball Asso- 
ciation, and another year, of the Athletic Commit- 
tee. While a professor at Wesleyan University, he 
was a member of the Athletic Committee, " and 

211 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

took the keenest interest in college sports. One stu- 
dent of the time remembers how incensed he became 
at the limited ambition of the Wesleyan boys who, 
when they played against Yale, were satisfied only 
to keep the score down. ' That's no ambition at 
all/ he used to cry. ' Go in and win; you can lick 
Yale as well as any other team. Go after their 
scalps. Don't admit for a moment that they can 
beat you.' " 

His writings exhibit constant allusions to sport- 
ing life, but these are even less numerous in their 
variety than are his references to the theater. 

I avail myself merely of notes taken during a read- 
ing of George Washington. The book is full of 
compliments for " Virginia gentlemen who kept old 
customs bright and honored in the observance " — 
that is, who were " keen on " " the hale old sport " 
of galloping in the rear of dogs, and, with canine 
assistance, murdering vermin — a performance 
euphemistically known as " following the hounds." 
The tormented animals figure in Mr. Wilson's pages 
as " the crafty quarry," the most blood-thirsty sadist 
as " the heartiest sportsman of them all." Gam- 
bling ("gaming" in Wilsonian cant) again and 
again, in association with horse-racing, makes its due 
appeal to the surviving remembrance of feudal vir- 
tues. Mr. Wilson's anxious hope to qualify as an 

212 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

English sportsman is, however, unfortunately ruined 
by his failure to recollect that an English gentleman 
never adverts to a " gunning," but always to a 
11 shooting " party. 

Occasionally Mr. Wilson indulges in bits of sport- 
ing slang, but never with the unconscious abandon 
of the true devotee of sport. There is a certain ex- 
citement in hearing a Presbyterian elder, a Doctor 
of Letters and a President, say that he is " playing 
a lone hand," or tell his opponents to " put up or 
shut up "; but in numerous efforts at the vernacular, 
we seem to recognize a deliberate innocence and awk- 
wardness, subtly intended to convey the impres- 
sion that the speaker is condescending to speech with 
which he is really not familiar. Mr. Wilson never 
betrays intimacy with the more succinct racy idioms 
of current sporting slang. 

Mr. Wilson for many years has been accustomed 
to speak of " matching my mind against " other 
minds, as if intellects were pennies, or perhaps ath- 
letic teams. The frequency with which he uses 
this phrase somehow arouses the perhaps gratuitous 
suspicion that it is his own mind — and not that of 
an opponent — against which he is matching. For 
twenty-four years, indeed, his only opportunity for 
other matches was with undergraduate minds in his 
class-rooms. 

213 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Protestations of anxiety to engage in contests 
abound in the works which we have under review. 
The examples below are merely typical: 

" If any one wants a scrap that is an interesting scrap and 
worth while, I am his man. I warn him that he is not 
going to draw me into the scrap for his advertisement, but 
if he is looking for trouble that is the trouble of men in gen- 
eral and I can help a little, why, then, I am in for it." 

" If you were to subject my Scots-Irish blood to the 
proper kind of analysis, you would find that it was fighting 
blood, and that it is pretty hard for a man born that way to 
keep quiet." 

" Almost every time that I ever visited Atlantic City I 
came to fight somebody. I hardly know how to conduct my- 
self when I have not come to fight against anybody, but with 
somebody." 

" I sometimes feel like the Irishman who saw some of his 
countrymen enjoying themselves at the fair and called out: 
' Is this a private fight, or can anybody come in ? ' 



In the course of other chapters, reflection has been 
made on the significance of too-ready and unneces- 
sary protestations. To be over-suspicious on this 
point would be as unscientific as to be naive. All 
that we are justified in saying is that it is noticeable 
that on some subjects the gentleman doth protest 
too much; that those subjects are, singularly enough, 
ones concerning which a degree of distrust has been 

214 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

forced upon our conclusions ; and that the coincidence 
deserves attention. 

Mr. Wilson, for instance, is constantly affirming 
that nothing interests him but facts, and we know bet- 
ter; he repeatedly asseverates the absolute positive- 
ness of his convictions, and not infrequently these are 
the very convictions which he abandons the next day, 
without an expressed regret; his favorite poem is 
The Happy Warrior, and he brags rather like an 
Allen Breck, "Am I no' the bonny fighter?" — but 
we cannot forget that at times, at least, he is too 
proud, or too something, to fight. In like manner 
he often disparages rhetoric, just before declaiming 
one of the versions of his justly-admired peroration. 
" The flag," he says, " does not express a mere body 
of sentiment"; and proceeds himself to express 
a body of sentiment. " It has not been created 
by rhetorical sentences " — such as those with which 
he now regales us. He writes one of his best chap- 
ters proving that the American Constitution is not 
a machine of checks and balances, but a living or- 
ganism; and then seven more chapters which describe 
the Constitution in detail as a machine of checks and 
balances. He ridicules seclusion, practices it as no 
public man has ever practiced it; and then denounces 
it some more; he hides himself in a locked White 
House behind iron gates guarded by sentinels and 
writes: 

215 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

u I have heard some say that I am not accessible to them, 
and when I have inquired into it, I found they meant that I 
did not personally invite them. They did not know how 
to come without being invited, did not care to come upon the 
same terms with everybody else." 

" What I am constantly asking is that men should bring 
me counsel, because I am not privileged to determine things 
independently of this counsel." 

". . . no patience with a cloistered virtue that does not 
go out and seek its adversary." 

" Seclude a man, separate him from the rough and tumble 
of . . . life, from all the contacts of every sort and condi- 
tion of men, and you have done a thing which America will 
brand with its contemptuous disapproval." 

" I am amazed that there should be in some quarters such 
a comprehensive ignorance of the state of the world. I do 
not know where these gentlemen have been closeted, but I do 
know that they have been segregated from the general cur- 
rents of the thoughts of mankind. ... I cannot understand 
how these gentlemen can live, and not live in the atmos- 
phere of the world." 

It is impossible not to get the disturbing sense that 
we are listening to a consciousness condemning it- 
self, without confession; impossible not to feel that 
some, at least, of Mr Wilson's protestations repre- 
sent defense against his own fears. 

If this be the case, the situation would compel us 
to ask whether there were not ground to conclude 
that his positiveness is assumed, and his courage (all 

216 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

the more praiseworthy on that account) a self-pro- 
tective cloak for constitutional timidity; in short, 
whether we had not to do with a psychology of — 
unusual interest. If our conjecture should prove 
correct, it would be no surprise if we further found 
the soul and mind of our hero disturbed — kept in a 
chronic state of disturbance — by conflicting im- 
pulses; if we found that his intellectuation, hindered 
by psychic complexes unresolved and apparently in- 
capable of resolution, sought refuge in vague gener- 
alities, which soon assumed the form of symbols, 
which came to be credited with mystic properties, 
came to be employed magically, came to manifest 
the unhappy domination of the intellect by precepts 
other than those of calm rationality — all the while 
the inner struggle working cumulative nervous ex- 
haustion and brain fatigue. 



To attempt a catalogue of Wilsonian errors is a 
task I decline. Not that it would be a hard task: 
the list would not be long, nor yet would it require 
much searching to make it. But enough mistakes 
have been and will be noted in connection with par- 
ticular subjects discussed, to render a separate chap- 
ter on errors unnecessary. 

There are errors of fact and of expression. Most 
of the first class can be attributed only to what this 

217 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

book prefers to call fatigue, meaning to include under 
that description all manifestations of forgetfulness, 
carelessness, mistaken acts of memory or deduction, 
and unrecognized compulsions which are at all events 
connected with a subnormal mental condition. We 
understand to-day that forgetfulness is a positive 
act, and not merely a negative condition; the desired 
fact is there, but a repression sits upon it, or a con- 
tradicting urge plays tricks with it. I presume it is 
good psychopathology to say that something like an 
index of the degree of mental vigor is afforded by 
the frequency and the character of errors of intel- 
lectuation. 

It would be excellent fun to catch a professor of 
history with his galligaskins down; but unfortu- 
nately we cannot quite believe that Mr. Wilson was 
ignorant that it was Gladstone, not Bryce, who wrote 
the much-quoted tribute to the American Constitu- 
tion. Nor can we attribute it to sheer ignorance 
that a candidate bidding for the Democratic nomina- 
tion for the Presidency, in a " Jackson Day " speech 
before a national audience 1 should have confounded 
the date of the battle of New Orleans with the 
birthday of the Democratic idol. 

Lapses like those require some little explanation, 
but among Mr. Wilson's transgressions are some 
which are more difficult of explanation. This, 

1 Washington, January 8, 1912. 

218 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

for example: " You cannot establish a line by two 
posts." Wilson, true, was not a surveyor, like 
Washington and Lincoln, but at one period he was 
fond of writing about theodolites, and plumed him- 
self a little on his geometry. 

" You cannot establish a line by two posts ; you have got 
to have three at least to know whether they are straight 
(sic), and the longer your line the more certain your meas- 
urement." 

The address in which this statement was advanced 
and repeated was made at Washington, February 26, 
19 16, and is printed in the Congressional Record, 
LIII, page 3308. 

There are far more errors of expression than er- 
rors of fact — one is tempted to imitate his style 
and say there are infinitely more errors of expres- 
sion than of fact — in Mr. Wilson's writings. This 
is of course partly because he has little to do with 
concrete facts concerning which definite mistakes 
can be made. Quotations of expressional inanities 
already crowd this book; if we have not yet had 
enough samples of them, consider these : 

". . . nothing is more fundamental than . . ." 
". . . shows how unanimously you sustain . . ." 
". . . the center of the heart of it all is . . ." 
". . . living principles that live in the heart." 

219 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

"... A very large proportion of these sums were raised 
by . . ." 

(Message to Congress, May 21, 19 19.) 

" We see that in many things life is very great." 

(First Inaugural Address.) 

" Experience, ladies and gentlemen, is made by men and 
women." 

(Washington, June 14, 19 15.) 

" Unless he carries freight of the spirit, he has not been 
bred where spirits are bred." 

(Swarthmore College, October 25, 1915.) 

" When those men have been gibbeted they will be sorry 
the gibbet was so high." 

(Paterson, N. J., October 5, 19 12.) 

" It is very difficult for a body which compounds its legis- 
lation by so miscellaneous a process as that of committees." 

Congressional Government, 106. 

11 The threadbare phrase seems new stuff when we wear 
it on our understandings." 

Congressional Government, 23. 

This is probably what is meant by " stuff and non- 
sense." 



I am interrupted in the composition of this chapter 
by a maid who lays on my desk, among other pieces 

220 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

of mail, a pamphlet reporting the speech of Presi- 
dent Wilson before the Paris Congress of the In- 
ternational Law Society. 

The President's address contains 1200 words — - 
a newspaper column. The first sentence is per- 
functuary; the second sentence is ungrammatical: 

" Sir Thomas has been peculiarly generous, as have been 
the other gentlemen, in what he has said of me, but they 
have given me too high a role to play up to." 

It was appropriate that at a Peace Conference 
which is to bring in the millennium, the singular verb 
should lie down with the plural noun. And, after 
all, why should not the President say, as well as an 
Emperor: "Ego sum super grammat'icum." 

The third sentence is parsable, but its syntax is so 
faulty that the probable meaning can be surmised 
only by violent transposition: 

" It is particularly difficult to believe one's self to be what 
has been described in so small a company as this." 

The fourth sentence reads : 

" When a great body of people is present, one can assume 
a pose which is impossible when there is so small a number 
of critical eyes locking at you." 

There is probably nothing concerning which Mr. 

221 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Wilson would take more pains to be correct than 
concerning matters of taste. He would regard with 
horror a solecism of deportment, and value no per- 
sonal quality higher than urbane discernment of the 
proprieties. 

Why, then, did he at the Buckingham Palace state 
dinner, thus address the King of England: 

11 For you and I, Sir — I temporarily — embody the spirit 
of two great nations." 

No living monarch would dream of claiming to 
embody the spirit of a nation. The President was 
flattering King George as kings are not nowadays 
flattered by their most groveling slaves; and was at- 
tributing to himself a character which to assume is 
either blasphemy or nonsense. There has been no 
Incarnation since the time of Jesus Christ. Nobody 
to-day embodies the spirit of two nations. 

The President's toast ran on : 

" The welcome which you have given me and Mrs. Wilson 
has been so warm, so natural, so evidently from the heart, 
that we have been more than pleased ... I believe that I 
correctly interpret that welcome as embodying not only your 
own generous spirit towards us personally, but also as ex- 
pressing for yourselves and the great nation over which you, 
Sir, preside, that same feeling for my people," etc., etc. 

When the President of a republic addressed the 

222 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

King of England as one who presides over a nation, 
and in the next breath spoke of his own fellow-citi- 
zens as " my people " ; and when he expressed ap- 
preciation of a royal welcome as meant, first, for him- 
self and his wife personally, but also, in the second 
place, for his "people," — we may be sure that the 
orderly rational processes of that President's mind 
were in a state of disturbance. Inspection of the ad- 
dress confirms the suspicion; it is flabby with the fa- 
miliar stigmata of fatigue: "so warm, so natural, 
so evidently from the heart . . ."; "more than 
pleased" (not just honestly pleased); "I believe 
that I correctly interpret . . ." (I have a doubt, but 
I certainly believe that) ; " I correctly interpret 
that — " (what was the word I used a moment ago? 
— " welcome ") " that welcome as " (what was that 
other word — oh ! yes ! " embody " ) " — as embody- 
ing — " (what did I say after "embody" — oh! I 
remember, "spirit") " — as embodying your" (I 
have said " generous " only two or three times so 
far) " — as embodying your generous spirit" — 
And so on.. 

In connection with this exchange of compliments 
with King George, a moment might be spent in con- 
sidering Mr. Wilson's Lincoln oration. This is re- 
ferred to in my notes as one of several passages con- 
taining the solitary quotation from Shakespeare I 
notice in Mr. Wilson's books, and it is questionably 

223 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

used. " To the manner born " is the quotation. 
There is no question about the spelling, because the 
word we now write " manor " was not so spelt in 
Shakespeare's day. It is probable that the sense 
of Hamlet's statement to Horatio on the terrace of 
the castle of Elsinore was 

". . . though I am native here 

And to the manor born, it is a custom 

More honor'd in the breach than the observance.' , 

Whichever of the two meanings is correct, the al- 
lusion was an infelicitous element of Mr. Wilson's 
strained attempt, speaking at the door of the lowly 
backwoods cabin where Abe Linkhorn opened his 
eyes, to celebrate this honest son of Kentucky illiter- 
ates as a romantically miraculous personage '* whose 
vision swept many an horizon which those about him 
dreamed not of, whose mind comprehended what it 
had never seen, and understood the language of af- 
fairs with the ready ease of one to the manor born " 
— the manor being a dirt-floored hut, without win- 
dows and a quarter section of wilderness. 

The only existing authentic account of the birth 
and infancy of Lincoln is in the hands of J. L. 
Scripps, who, so far as I know, never communicated 
its contents further than he did to Lincoln's law 
partner, Herndon, in a letter which says: " Lin- 
coln seemed painfully impressed with the extreme 

224 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

poverty of his early youth and the utter absence of 
all romantic and heroic elements. He communi- 
cated some facts to me concerning his ancestry which 
he did not wish to have published then, and which I 
have never spoken of, or alluded to, before." 
Abraham Lincoln was born on skins in a corner. 
His father could not read or write. When his 
mother one day gave a party, she handed around raw 
potatoes. In the third improved cabin in which he 
lived as a boy, Abe had a shake-down in a low loft 
up to which he climbed by pegs driven into the logs. 
And this is the language in which one of his suc- 
cessors in the Presidential chair patronizes his lowly 
birth: 

11 How eloquent this little house within this shrine is of 
the vigor of democracy. There is nowhere in the land any 
home so remote, so humble, that it may not contain the power 
of mind and conscience to which nations yield and history 
submits its processes. Genius is no snob. It affects humble 
company as well as great. It serenely chooses its comrades. 
This little hut was the cradle of one of the great sons of men, 
who presently emerged upon the great stage, himself the 
center of the great plot. It demonstrates the vigor of de- 
mocracy. Such are the authentic proofs of the validity and 
vitality of democracy. Here, no less, hides the mystery of 
democracy. Who shall guess this secret of nature and provi- 
dence and a free polity? Whatever the vigor and vitality 
of the stock from which he sprang, its mere vigor and vitality 

225 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

do not explain. . . . This is the sacred mystery of democ- 
racy. . . . This is a place of mystery. ... It is the spirit 
always that is sovereign. Lincoln was put through the dis- 
cipline of the world, a very rough and exacting discipline 
for him, an indispensable discipline. . . . This also is of the 
essence of democracy. . . . We will not look into the 
mystery of how and why they came. . . . No writer has in 
fact penetrated to the heart of the mystery. . • . That brood- 
ing spirit had no real familiars. It was a very lonely spirit 
that looked out from underneath those shaggy eyebrows and 
comprehended men without communing with them, as if it 
dwelt apart, saw its visions of duty. . . ." 

What is it that makes this tribute to Lincoln so 
ghastly in its sterility? There have been hundreds 
of attempts to portray this great American by 
tongue, pen, brush and chisel, but can there ever have 
been an effort so pompous, and a failure so com- 
plete? What interdiction sat upon Mr. Wilson's 
soul as he stood by the cabin in which Honest Abe 
was born? What impediment to his thought forced 
him to drivel like this with 

processes, 
authentic proofs, 
providence and a free polity, 
visions, 

the vigor and vitality of the stock, 
mere vigor and vitality, 
the vigor of democracy, 
226 



THE FLIGHT FROM THE FACT 

the vigor of democracy, 

the validity and vitality of democracy 

the essence of democracy, 

the mystery of democracy, 

the sacred mystery of democracy, 

the mystery of how and why, 

the heart of the mystery, 

place of mystery, 

spirit, 

brooding spirit, 

the discipline of the world, 

exacting discipline, 

indispensable discipline. 

This is not thought. This is acousmatic impro- 
visation filling up time for vacuity of idea, inhibition, 
or advanced fatigue. 



This chapter is entitled Doubt and the Flight from 
the Fact. The chapter, like the rest of a swiftly- 
written book, attempts nothing more than a hasty 
assembling of certain phenomena with which the 
future historians of this dramatic age and its more 
conspicuous figures, will naturally have to deal. 

Woodrow Wilson promised, for a year or two, to 
be a very large factor, perhaps one of the determin- 
ing factors, on the stage of the world, as the great 
drama of the reconstruction of human society pro- 

227 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

gressed. What part he, with a more stable consti- 
tution, might have played — may, fifty years hence, 
furnish an afternoon's topic of conjecture for some 
historian lecturing before students who, after their 
kind, look often at the clock, and yawn over the pro- 
fessor's eloquent drone, as he utters the judgement 
of another generation concerning a character around 
whose sad figure had played the irony of History's 
illimitable derision, and makes the explaining com- 
ment: 

// sun and moon began to doubt, 
Immediately they would go out! 



228 



VII 

A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

AN interesting Wilson document is in my pos- 
session. It is a type-written " manuscript " 
prepared for the President from memor- 
anda furnished by him, the text conscientiously 
phrased in his own style by a student of it, and re- 
vised by Mr. Wilson's own hand and pen. The al- 
terations are significant; the chief ones will be noted 
below. 

There are few deletions. Mr. Wilson never clari- 
fies or strengthens a sentence by shortening it; he 
improves after the fashion of the ingenuous lady 
who, dissatisfied with her hat, corrects its style by 
bestowing upon it a few more flowers and ribbons. 
Mr. Wilson corrects words with additional words. 
First as to the less significant additions: 
A certain number of them seem to have been dic- 
tated by mere doubt as to whether the reader were 
getting his money's worth of words : 

"(// happened that) one of the men who knew the least 
about the subject happened to be . . ." 

229 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" A newspaper (happened to have) said that . . ." 
". . . need (to) be exercised." 
". . . ought never (to) permit it." 

". . . such an uncompromising fact as (this) that . . .'* 
" Men see (that) there is nothing to conceal." 
"(our) architects are also engineers." 
" There is a better way of defending themselves, and that 
(better way) is . . ." 

Several of the interpolations represent what I 
elsewhere term the " spring-board " habit. In ex- 
temporaneous speech one might take this practice to 
signify that the orator needed a running start for 
his jump. But here we have a written manuscript 
corrected in leisure; and it seems that Mr. Wilson 
considers it improper to begin to say what he is 
about to say without a graceful flourish: 

11 (It may even be that) your invention may be . . ." 
11 (It is true that) . . ." 

Gratuitous grace-notes are introduced into the 
middle of the written score: 

". . . (if you please,) . . ." 

". . . (singularly enough,) . . ." 

"And inasmuch (therefore) as I hope . . ." 

There are few additions of entire sentences. The 
lengthiest insertion begins in this characteristic 
fashion: 

230 



A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

u {As a matter of fact, their thought does not cover all the 
processes of their own undertakings. Do these men, etc.?)" 



The more important interpolations fall, for the 
most part, into two classes, of strongly contrasting 
characters. Many are intensifications of the orig- 
inal sense; almost as many are qualifications of it. 

The intensifications are sometimes interjected ad- 
jectives or adverbs, sometimes added phrases or ex- 
patiatory clauses; they generally reveal a lack of con- 
fidence in the ability of the simple statement to carry 
its due message, an enthusiasm for superlatives and 
absolutes, and sometimes over-anxiety for an effect 
of sincerity. Corrections of this class are seen in 
the bracketed and italicized words that follow: 

11 And yet that is [exactly] the principle of . . ." 
" The younger member had [all along] been running the 
business." 

11 The strength of America is proportioned [only] 
to . . ." 

cry out [most loudly] against . . ." 
[seriously] set about the accomplishment of . . ." 
declared [and declared in unmistakable terms] that 
they 

believe [firmly] in the essential doctrines of . . ." 
" You had thought you had obscured [and buried] the 
ideals." 

231 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

". . . to alter it at their pleasure [and to alter it to any 
degree]" 

'* I knew [and could find] . . ." 

u . . . the Petition of Rights, or the Declaration of Rights, 
[those great fundamental documents]." 

". . . over and over, again and again, advocated [with all 
the earnestness that is in them]." 

". . . the watchful interference [the resolute interfer- 
ence] . . ." 

". . . human interests [and human activities and human 
energies]." 

" . . . irreverence for the Constitution [itself]." 

". . . roused [refreshed and renewed] the spirit . . ." 

". . . [effectively] takes control." 

". . . That is the [z>£ry] central doctrine . . ." 

". . . the [liberating] light of liberty . . " 

". . . [actual] necessity . . ." 

". . . [really] studied . . ." 

" America is [securely] great." 

". . . [genuinely] concerned." 

". . . the [extraordinary] results." 

". . . the [bitter] sort of subserviency." 

". . . reap the [full] fruits." 

". . . closer [even] than . . ." 

". . . the burden of [long] exile." 

". . . extraordinary [and very sinister] thing." 

". . . this inside [and selfish] determination." 

". . . without [vigorous and] intelligent men." 

" The hope [and elasticity] of the race . . ." 

The sentence u It is a fundamental, spiritual dif- 

232 



A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

ference . . ." is made to read: " This is the fun- 
damental spiritual difference." The sentence 
" Though they seem to be effective, . . ." is made to 
read: "Though they be never so effective, . . ." 
It is said of Mr. Roosevelt that it was no wonder 
he was not again elected " and allowed to patent the 
processes of industry and [personally] direct them." 
The statement " We are seeing men stand up " is 
intensified into " We are seeing a whole people stand 
up." " Only slightly less " became " no less." 
" The great danger " was made " the dominating 
danger in this land. )} 



On the other hand, it is curious to see, alternating 
with these confident enlargements, penned in a fine 
hand between the lines, cautious reservations, nerv- 
ous abatments, depleting the thought often to ex- 
tinction : 

probably 

doubtless 

perhaps 

presumably 

largely 

virtually 

practically 

morally 

no doubt 

apparently 

233 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

often 

merely 

too often 

to all intents and purposes 

I believe 

It may be that 

now at least 

in some circumstances 
"They are prospering [freely] only in those fields." 
". . . based [when rightfully conceived] on justice." 
" The life of the country will be sustained [or at least sup- 
plemented] by • • •" 

". . . provided the result was {indeed) obtained by the 
process of {wholesome) growth." 

One alarmed effort at qualification results in this: 
11 1 am bound to them by a tacit implication of 
honor." The original sentence had read: " I am 
bound to them by a tacit pledge of honor." A tacit 
pledge is an implication; but " a tacit implication" 
is — a pleonasm. 

The locution is singularly clear in its betrayal of 
the incorrigibility of Mr. Wilson's Janus-faced dis- 
position. He must repeat, double and seem to 
strengthen, even when he means to diminish and 
mitigate. 

Perhaps these two contradictory tendencies — on 
the one hand to intensify, on the other hand to abate 
— the contending impulses, i.e., of courage and of 
timidity — are not as incompatible as they may seem. 

234 



A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

Compounds of elements apparently the most irrecon- 
cilable are constantly blended in the mysterious 
alembic of the human soul. Freud has taught us 
to recognize the ambivalence of our emotions as one 
of the cardinal principles essential to a just account 
of life. Love includes hate, and implies it, even 
as to the object itself; courage and fear derives each 
its character from conflict with its opposing emo- 
tion; the loftiest and holiest, just as the basest, im- 
pulses of action, harbor their indestructible contra- 
dictions in their own very heart. Often the power 
of the predominating instinct is measurable by the 
vehemence with which, in its momentary or its con- 
firmed ascendancy, it tramples its rival. And the 
repressed desire is not extinguished; it survives even 
in defeat to warn its conqueror that it only awaits 
its day. 

There is nothing extraordinary or unnatural in 
the coexistence and conflict of opposing tendencies in 
the same mind. The saints are holy just because 
they triumph over temptation; the ungodly recognize 
the righteousness which they refuse; the self-cen- 
tered man and the humanitarian, the literalist and 
the dreamer; the hero and the cad — they all know 
the power of the instinct; of the survival of the con- 
genital, educational or environing influence; of the 
physical conditions of fatigue or stimulation, which 
have to be sternly resisted by the resolved character, 

235 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

and which, neverless, do not expire — which, indeed, 
survive, always, even in defeated quiescence, waiting 
their revenge. 



In the significant manuscript just now under con- 
sideration, there present themselves some extremely 
interesting cases in which the ambivalent tendencies 
to intensification and to abatement associate them- 
selves in the same sentence. The finely penned in- 
terlinear " improvements " made by Mr. Wilson 
on his agent's text include the following: 

The sentence, " They have always been the stout 
opponents of organized labor " is amended so as 
to read: "They have . . . been the stout {est and 
most successful) opponents of organized labor." 
The correction strikes out the absolute " always " 
but makes instant atonement by throwing in two 
superlatives. It is impossible to say whether this 
was the actual order in which the alterations were 
made; it is at least equally possible that the strength- 
ening was done first, and the abatement made after- 
ward. That is to say, the reviser, unsatisfied with 
"stout," lifted it to "stoutest"; then, carried on 
by further enthusiasm and in obedience to his addic- 
tion to couplets, added " and most successful." The 
sentence then read: "They have always been the 
stoutest and most successful opponents," etc. But 

236 



A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

then a doubt spoke, courage cooled, and the encrav- 
ened pen struck out the " always." This is probably 
what actually occurred ; but whether this or the other 
were the order of alteration, we have here a graphic 
picture of courage wrestling with fear. 

(If we should pause to take consideration of the 
facts, we should find that the original sentence con- 
formed to them, and was a pertinent and fully ex- 
pressed step in an advancing argument; but that 
the amended sentence is questionable; in fact, that 
its superlatives introduce a doubt into the argument, 
and tend to distract from attention to it.) 

Another sentence originally read: " They bought 
him out at a price three or four times the value 
..." As revised by Mr. Wilson, the matter is 
stated: " They bought him out at a price three or 
four times (/ beliie actually five times) the value, 
etc." What could be more unfortunately revealing 
than this sentence? The author is talking about the 
purchase of the Carnegie Works by the United 
States Steel Corporation, a notorious and important 
transaction, the facts of which were easily ascertain- 
able. Mr. Wilson had originally mentioned the 
rather hazy but impressive price of three or four 
times the property's value. When he came to think 
of it again, he felt he hadn't done the subject jus- 
tice:, it must have been more; at any rate, one must 
put things rather larger than life in order to impart 

237 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

the thrill which one enjoys himself. Make it " five 
times" — "actually five times." Ah! that's bet- 
ter. But, wait a moment; we must be a little care- 
ful about this : make it, " / believe actually five 
times." But I don't believe it strongly enough to 
strike out the three times or the four times, which I 
no longer believe. 

Would it be possible to invent, to order, for the 
purpose, an act of the pen more symptomatic of 
psychic instability than that of an author, who, 
reading over sentences awaiting his final signature, 
finds a statement that a price was three or four times 
what it ought to be, and who satisfies his sense of 
truth, indulges his propensity for fervid expression 
and his instinct of self-doubt, by refraining from cor- 
rection, certainly, but by interpolating a half-bold, 
half-timid gloss, which represents nothing but an 
emotion and a hesitation? 

Another sentence had read: " Do you know that 
you can get rebates without calling them such at all ? " 
It was given the qualification, " unless our Ameri- 
can commissioners are absolutely sleepless/' Of 
course no commissioners can be absolutely sleep- 
less, so that the easement is merely rhetorical, not 
actual. 

11 Certain monopolies in this country have gained 
control of the raw material " did not satisfy Mr. 
Wilson. He made it read, " almost complete con- 

238 



A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

trol" introducing an absolute, but a qualified ab- 
solute. The original sentence had in fact contained 
all that was necessary to the argument; the exact 
degree of control was not a matter of special signif- 
icance. The intensification was in the nature of a 
slightly disturbing and distracting nonessential. 
These are both instances of an emotional impulse to 
heighten and enlarge, in conflict with a paralyzing 
doubt. 



A paragraph (page 77) of Mr. Wilson's best 
considered and most carefully written book, Con- 
stitutional Government in the United States, dra- 
matically exhibits the conflict between the contra- 
dictory impulses: to intensity and to quality. Here, 
as usually, the intensifying impulse prevails; but it 
is haunted by the doubt — one is inclined to say 
the intensification of expression is made necessary 
for protection against the doubt, which is concealed 
in the qualifying adjectives. The passage reads: 

" One of the greatest of the President's powers I have 
not yet spoken of at all: his control which is very absolute, of 
the foreign relations of the nation. The initiative in for- 
eign affairs, which the President possesses without any re- 
striction whatever, is virtually the power to control them 
absolutely." 

239 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

The author here says that the President's powers 
include his control (not his dictation, so far as we go 
now, but his "control") of the nation's foreign 
affairs. This " control " however, we proceed, is 
absolute; nay, it is "very absolute." The Presi- 
dent possesses the initiative in foreign affairs and 
possesses it without restriction, without any restric- 
tion, without any restriction whatever; therefore 
he possesses the power to control foreign affairs, yes, 
to control foreign affairs absolutely. Yet, wait a 
minute, please — " this is virtually the power to 
control them absolutely." Only virtually. 

I have not seen the manuscript of this book, but, 
on the basis of Wilson manuscripts which I have 
seen, I undertake to say that it would show that the 
passage was originally written thus: 

" One of the greatest of the President's powers I have not 
yet spoken of at all: his control which is absolute, of the 
foreign relations of the nation. The initiative in foreign af- 
fairs, which the President possesses without any restriction 
is the power to control them absolutely " 

and that, in revision, the word " very " was inserted 
before "absolute," and "whatever" after "re- 
striction"; that the reenforced sentence was mur- 
mured aloud by the reviser, with initial satisfaction 
— immediately followed by depressing doubt, and 
that, under the influence of this doubt, and of the 

240 



A TYPICAL MANUSCRIPT 

shrewdly suggested compensating satisfaction of re- 
peating the vibrated intonation to which he is ad- 
dicted, Mr. Wilson stuck in the sterilizing qualifica- 
tion, " virtually." 1 

I will wager that inspection of the manuscript of 
Constitutional Government in the United States will 
prove this surmise correct. 

1 The utterance of the sound of v involves a somewhat compli- 
cated struggle. V is a partially inhibited /, which is allowed to 
escape only after modification. The compression of the lower teeth 
against the upper lip may correspond to an inner mental impulse 
of obstruction. It gives time, it covers hesitation ; while the breath 
is contending for release, the mind has opportunity to resolve its 
conflicts or to compromise them, and perhaps to turn an incipient 
"veritable" {exempli gratia) into "virtual" or "vital," "virile," 
" vigorous," " vocal," " vivid," " vast," or " various," or one of the 
other vibrated vocables. 



24I 



VIII 

CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

MR. WILSON is a Christian gentleman of 
correct and industrious habits; it has never 
been suggested that the slightest peculiar- 
ity beyond what any " normal " individual may ex- 
hibit without attracting attention, could be detected 
in any act or item of behavior, appearance, gesture, 
carriage or manner, observable in this dignified, 
courteous, generally amiable, often charming, per- 
sonality. 

On the other hand, it must be said frankly and 
with conscientious seriousness, that a study of Mr. 
Wilson's writings and speeches does not permit the 
conclusion that his is a high grade of mentality. It 
is impossible to ignore the fact that his writings 
are marked conspicuously and obstinately by some 
of the signs often associated with sub-normal intel- 
lectuation. It is equally impossible to discern in 
them any evidences of compensating genius, such 
as often accompanies idiosyncrasy. The conclusion 
enforced is that among writers he ranks as one of 
inferior mental power. 

Such are the results of our study. But how can 

242 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

we reconcile them with the position which Mr. Wil- 
son has achieved among men — and achieved by 
words? 

His fame it would be foolish to deny. His re- 
pute for wisdom, genius and eloquence has gone 
into all lands. Not once, but many times, the 
world has paused until he spoke. How can we trust 
our conclusions? 

If (especially in a Republic, where popular success 
is by most people accepted as convincing proof of 
superiority) — if it should seem astonishing to doubt 
the greatness of Woodrow Wilson, it may seem per- 
tinent to remark that none of his books has, or has 
the prospect of having, the circulation of Science and 
Health, the Book of Mormon, or The Koran. The 
beautiful stone temples which testify the admiration 
of thousands for Mrs. Eddy; the prosperous State 
carved out of the desert, and the great organiza- 
tion, which reflect the belief of hundreds of thou- 
sands in Joseph Smith; the hundreds of millions who 
have lived and died in faith that Mahomet was the 
prophet of God — do not really establish the intel- 
lectual claims of these founders of faiths. Of 
course, to those properly educated to adore these 
respective semi-divinities, it would seem a blasphemy 
to question the greatness of an ignorant female 
quack, a half-deceived and half-deceiving fanatic, or 
of an Oriental epileptic. 

243 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

These extreme illustrations have, of course, no 
bearing whatsoever on the question of Mr. Wilson's 
intelligence, other than this: that they challenge the 
idea that popular success is proof of mental super- 
iority. Marie Corelli, Gene Stratton Porter, and 
Harold Bell Wright possess no doubt perfectly nor- 
mal minds — but that they have superior minds will 
hardly be argued by readers of this book — written 
about the time Mr. Wright is publishing a first 
edition of 700,000 copies. 

Anybody can " succeed." There is nothing so in- 
decisive as " success." Intellect is often a hindrance 
to it. 

The reconciliation of inferiority with practical 
results ordinarily attributed to superiority is really 
a very common exercise. We constantly have occa- 
sion to exclaim over the surprising attainments of 
acquaintances whom we know to be very modestly 
endowed. It is, however, always a playful exer- 
cise — that is, it can never expect to arrive at any- 
thing more than a plausible, speculative answer. 

In the case of Mr. Wilson, there are perhaps dis- 
coverable several elements looking toward an expla- 
nation. Some of the very qualities which we have 
discerned as intellectual weaknesses may help to ac- 
count for popular success. 

Assurance, for instance, is almost invariably a 

244 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

concomitant of popular success. It may almost be 
said to go a long way toward achieving success, even 
in the absence of more solid merits. It is a truism 
which experience amply vindicates that a man is apt 
to be taken at the valuation he places upon himself. 
The maxim needs correction; it should say, at the 
valuation which he seems to place upon himself. 
Because, as we have had occasion to notice, self- 
assertion does not always spring from self-confi- 
dence; it quite often and naturally masks timidity, 
and is born of the necessity of masking it and of 
the desire to conquer it and demonstrate that it does 
not exist. Fear is in terror of nothing so much as of 
itself. The timid man is precisely he who must be 
bold. He dare not tremble; he is afraid to be a 
coward. 

It is probable that there is very often an inverse 
relation between the degree of self-assertion, the 
outward habit of assurance, and the measure of in- 
ner doubt. At all events, such a relation is pos- 
sible; and when the self-confidence is noticeably ex- 
traordinary, the ego palpably exaggerated, it is 
difficult to avoid a suspicion that chronic self-dis- 
trust is involved. This is clearly manifest in cases 
of real paranoia, marked by delusions of greatness 
and nevertheless obsessed with groundless fears. 
But the origin of the apparent assurance has ordi- 
narily no bearing on its result. The world sees only 

245 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

the egotist's sublime self-confidence, admires his 
courage, admits his claims. It seldom suspects how 
often the hero to whom it yields homage is himself 
puzzled at the success of his presumption, and, still 
doubtful, is spurred to further arrogances. The 
time may come when doubt will vanquish him, but 
till it does, the very sternness of his battle against it 
imparts to his acts an intensity of aggressiveness 
which events can not easily resist. 

Again, besides displaying the psychic power of as- 
surance in extraordinary measure, Mr. Wilson is for- 
tunately circumstanced for popular success in the 
quality of his mental equipment. His learning is 
precisely of the degree and the kind best calculated 
to impress the populace. He bears all the outward 
decorous marks of the scholar, fulfills the popular 
idea of a philosopher who confers honor upon the 
sordid concerns of political life by bringing to them 
the high thoughts and ideals amidst which he lived 
so long in cloistered contemplation above that which 
the vulgar are permitted or are fit to enjoy. On the 
other hand, his philosophy is not too high for human 
understanding, and is not withheld from the admir- 
ing multitude. 

If this book has not already conveyed the impres- 
sion that Mr. Wilson's mental attainments and au- 
thority are of the peculiar grade which, if they served 

246 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

any purpose, would serve that of winning popular 
reputation, it would be too late to insist upon that 
now. And it would be too late to argue in more 
explicit detail how uniquely adjusted to the impress- 
ing of a none-too-thoughtful public are Mr. Wilson's 
methods of expression, if foregoing chapters have 
not allowed that suspicion to escape. 

If this study has not been all wrong, a large factor 
in the explanation of Mr. Wilson lies in the astonish- 
ing measure in which he indulges his few tricks of 
style — the extraordinary length to which he allows 
his addictions to run, the unparalleled audacity 
with which he endlessly repeats his verbal feats, 
drones his generalities, reechoes his mystic phrases, 
learning nothing and forgetting nothing through the 
years, but working on with the tireless, unabashed 
monotony of a machine, unweeting whether what it 
weaves is precious or worthless, but compelled by 
some fatal inner necessity. There is an impressive- 
ness in monotony — not a high form of impressive- 
ness, maybe, not altogether rational, but magical — 
nothing less — in its effect upon those (most of us) 
who cannot always take the trouble to be attentive 
to reason alone. Vagueness and reiteration, sym- 
bolism and incantation, I take to be the chief secrets 
of Mr. Wilson's verbal power. 

We have found that Mr. Wilson does not employ 
words because of any definite meaning they carry. 

247 






V 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 



He asks them only to possess a vague emotional con- 
tent. He is not concerned to impart explicit ideas; 
his care is for emotional effect. Therefore his fond- 
ness for large phrases dimly understanded of the 
people, but carrying for them mystic suggestions of 
profound wisdom. He desires only to have his half- 
formed thoughts vaguely glow through nebulous 
phrases, subconsciously knowing that only so can they 
be impressive. 

But the employment of large and nebulous speech 
has this advantage: it does not convey explicit ideas, 
but it suggests many large ones. And to each lis- 
tener it suggests naturally ideas which are already in 
his mind. You cannot ordinarily give a man new 
ideas except by means of explicit speech; but you can 
confirm him in familiar ideas ; you can flatter him with 
the belief that he is thinking, and likewise gain much 
admiration for yourself as a clear expositor of 
thought. The emotional method allows each lis- 
tener to interpret the liberal language in whatever 
sense he may desire. It is thus peculiarly adapted to 
gratify many, and very differently disposed, minds, 
and each mind according to its passing mood and to 
its reaction to the passion of the hour. 

Furthermore, symbolic language enables the audi- 
tor, as well as the speaker, to evade those most trou- 
blesome things in the world — facts; it emancipates 
from the repressive thralldom of reality (from 

248 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

which the soul and mind of man is forever struggling 
to escape) , and generates in every breast the virtuous 
satisfaction of winging unfettered flight in the realm 
of pure and happy idea. 

I have seen, in other days, in a European capital, 
a crowd uncover at the passage of a carriage bearing 
the crest and trappings of royalty. The carriage 
was empty. A word is a kingly thing and deserving 
of homage when it carries a kingly thought. But 
it is the way of the crowd to bare its head at the pom- 
pous passing of a phrase, equally and with as sincere 
a thrill of reverence, whether the vehicle be occupied 
or empty. 

Lest it be fancied that this book lays an over-em- 
phasis on the popular effect of symbolic language, 
I am going to insert here a couple of paragraphs 
from The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind, 
by Gustave Le Bon. I insert them, at a late moment 
(having just run across them, browsing over a neg- 
lected book-shelf, for something to go with my even- 
ing cigar), not because they contribute to the argu- 
ment, but because there may be those in America 
who will fail to recognize the importance of an 
American book unless it is fortified by a French work 
now in a twelfth English edition. M. Le Bon is 
speaking : 

" The imagination of crowds is particularly open to the im- 
pressions produced by images. . . . Words and formulas, 

249 



V 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

handled with art, possess in sober truth the mysterious power 
formerly attributed to them by the adepts of magic. . . . 
The power of words is quite independent of their real sig- 
nificance. Words whose sense is the most ill-defined are 
sometimes those that possess the most influence. . . . They 
evoke grandiose and vague images in men's minds, but this 
very vagueness that wraps them in obscurity augments their 
mysterious power. 

" A leader should be aware, in particular, of the fascinat- 
ing influence of words, phrases and images. . . . On oc- 
casion, the leader may be intelligent and highly educated, but 
the possession of intelligence and education does him, as a 
rule, more harm than good. The great leaders of crowds, 
in all ages, have been of lamentably narrow intellect; those 
whose intelligence has been the most restricted have exer- 
cised the greatest influences." 



The other element of popular emotional success 
is unashamed reiteration. (Half of Le Bon's book 
is given up to this, I find.) Napoleon said that 
there was only one rhetorical figure of serious im- 
portance, and that was Repetition. The refrain is 
Mr. Wilson's most triumphant artifice. 

" Use not vain repetitions as the heathen do," 
advised a Galilean teacher. But the Church 
founded on the bones of his philosophy was worldly- 
wise enough to disdain his injunction. The Naz- 
arene philosopher had not studied the psychology of 

250 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

attention, had not taken proper account of the hyp- 
notic value of repetition. Any modern advertising 
man could have advised the Saviour to advantage. 
His own sayings are not as popular as those of his 
chief publicity agent, Paul of Tarsus. Jesus, so far 
as we know, never wrote more than a single line — 
and that was in the sand. His general conception 
of success was on a level with his disapproval of 
repetitions. The common-sense of Christianity has 
flouted Christ's pretensions to wisdom. The plain 
people want vain repetitions; they cry for them as 
children on the bill-boards used to cry for Castoria. 
The whole modern art of advertising is built upon 
knowledge of the fact that nothing so impresses the 
common mind as iteration and reiteration. Cen- 
turies ago wise priests recognized the hypnotic ef- 
fect of the repetend in their endless litanies, osten- 
sibly addressed to God, but effectual chiefly on the 
auto-intoxicated suppliants. 

If a philosopher were to seek a scientific explana- 
tion for the impressiveness of iteration, it would 
probably be found in the very interesting phenom- 
ena of fatigue. Some years ago I spent part of a 
summer at Wood's Hole, Massachusetts, where 
Jacques Loeb was investigating the metabolism which 
takes place in living bodies under the stress of such 
stimulation as that presented by objects of ordinary 
attention. I cannot recount — I don't, in fact, re- 

251 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

member — the details of the fascinating experi- 
ments made by this biologist and his assistants; but 
it remains impressed upon my mind that the toxic 
poisons released by the human mechanism under the 
stimulation of an idea are measurable; and that the 
ability of the human organism, for instance, to focus 
its energies attentively upon an idea externally sug- 
gested, is strictly limited in time. As I remember 
it, what with dissected frog-legs and with delicate 
meters on the wrists and temples, and what not, 
some such conclusion was arrived at as that a fraction 
of a minute was enough to exhaust the energy of hu- 
man attention until a new impulse came to its rein- 
forcement. I do not pretend to speak of all this in 
anything but a way vaguely, yet I believe truthfully 
representative of the great physiological fact. Very 
likely I make a scientific fool of myself in the above 
explanation, but I speak with the full wisdom of all 
science when I assert that the attention of the 
hearer or the reader needs stimulation two or three 
times every minute of sixty seconds. 

Now, an obvious device for stimulating and re- 
claiming the attention is the repetition of a sound 
from which the attention has slacked. To assail 
the ear too frequently with a new sound, and the 
brain with a new idea, is to tax them unduly. To 
summon them to merely renewed interest in an old 
and already familiar sound and idea is to flatter 

252 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

them into an easier task. The ear again half listens, 
and the dulled mind fancies it apprehends, and the 
listener takes to his soul the delightful comfort that 
he is following a mental exercise of conspicuous 
merit. 

That may be the explanation — or a part of it — 
of the effect of the repetend. 

Yet, on the other hand, repetition too often re- 
peated has an effect the opposite of stimulating. 
It induces sleep. Even the long-listened-to boom- 
ing of cannon is soothing. I have myself wakened, 
in France and Flanders, uneasy in the night because 
the drum-fire had slackened. The ticking of a clock, 
the passing of foot-steps, the pulse of waves, the 
flicker of the fire-light, the rustle of leaves, are sopor- 
ific; and when verbal repetition becomes monotonous, 
it is brain-lulling, rather than stimulating. 

An incompetent layman in science should not at- 
tempt the resolution of the paradox; yet it seems 
pretty much to the point to remember that any 
stimulant in excess becomes somnific. Too many 
cocktails drowse the consumer whose eye the first 
one brightened, and whose tongue it loosened. 
However, we are assured by competent authority 
that the relaxing satisfaction engendered by the re- 
peated cocktail is no less agreeable than was the 
stimulation begotten by the first one. 

Is it possible that Mr. Wilson's habit of falling 

253 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

into a litany-like recitative is indulged just often 
enough, and in such degree, that it happens to lull 
and dull the mind (the auditors' and his own), while 
yet it rouses it to a self-satisfying stimulation of 
attention? 

For it must be considered that the refrain not only 
originates in sluggist cerebration, but that it minis- 
ters to sluggishness; the monotone soothes the 
speaker himself, as it does his audience. The sopor- 
ific sacrament was shared between preacher and con- 
gregation. The priest had partaken of the wine be- 
fore he gave the cup to the laity. Before he 
mesmerized them he had auto-hypnotized himself. 
The insistent domination of laborious thought had 
been by mutual consent suspended, and the orator 
had uttered his somniloquy before the hushed audi- 
ence sensuously gratified and mentally flattered under 
the rhythmic, but unexacting, murmur of his chant. 



There is just one more consideration which this 
book must entertain befor.e it comes. to its conclusion: 

Is Mr. Wilson, maybe, having a lot of fun over 
it, himself? Esteem, almost affection, for the many 
human qualities of the man, again and again com- 
mand this student of his style to pause and ponder: 
Is Mr. Wilson joking? 

There is something heart-warming in the thought. 

2 54 



CONCERNING POPULAR REPUTE 

We would forgive almost anything to one who, un- 
derstanding his own limitations, but early having 
discovered the gullibility of the multitude, set his 
mind upon place and power, industriously working 
with full faith in the magic of hocus-pocus, soberly 
unpacking his bag of tricks, and, tongue in his 
cheek, conjuring the prize out of the air before the 
bewildered and admiring crowd! 

Mental mediocrity often enjoys the protective 
coloring of soaring conceit; less often, but still fre- 
quently, that of a certain humor which delights in 
imposing its pompous platitudes upon minds equally 
commonplace, but less shrewd. The literature of 
charlatanry is full of illustrations of this happy gift. 
Is it possible that the Southern parson's son, 
who learned his alphabet at the age of nine; the 
briefless barrister who starved in his garret at At- 
lanta; the Princeton professor who (following the 
example confessed by Rousseau as to his music-teach- 
ing) learned a modicum of political economy by the 
well-accredited method of teaching it; the disap- 
pointed applicant for a Carnegie pension — is it pos- 
sible that, posing as a sage, but knowing himself to 
be a wise man, — he is having a huge joke with the 
world? 

Unhappily, except as a moment's relieving conceit, 
it is not possible to entertain the hypothesis that Mr. 

255 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

Wilson is having fun. Only the grimness of the 
conclusion we are forced to confront could have 
suggested thought of escape that way. The man 
whom we have been studying in his writings is no 
jester. He is a very tired and a sadly puzzled man, 
amazed doubtless at his own position, trembling at 
his own problems — and at himself. 

We have a way of saying that great epochs pro- 
duce great men. This, the greatest day of human 
history, has provided none. Beneath the blast of 
the mad anger of the Immortals, amidst the debacle 
of civilization, many a reputation has expired. Did 
anybody expect that the come-by-chance leader of 
the great western nation would rise, at least in 
some degree, to the call of an unequaled hour? 
How could one who all his life has fled realities 
and hid his head in phrases, face such a test as this? 
The supreme agony of history, the tragedy unequaled 
in the immensity of its ruth since the world has 
rolled and men have lived and loved and bred 
and bled, the cataclysmic passion which makes all 
the literature of human woe read like a nursery tale 
— how could even its anguish wring a single great 
Word from his lips? Amidst the tortures of a 
world, he can only alliterate, and generalize, and 
marshal still his ragged array of learned locutions. 
Perhaps he is condemned even to be unaware how he 
has failed. More likely, he is woe-weary, and be- 
wildered, and heart-sick. 

256 



IX 



THE STORY OF THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS 
SPEECHES 

A STUDENT of Mr. Wilson's literary style 
could not ignore the duty of considering such 
testimony as might be afforded by the series 
of speeches which he was to make during the month 
of September, 1919; and, accordingly, the closing of 
this little book was postponed for the purpose of in- 
corporating into it any points either confirmatory 
of the conclusions already reached, or corrective of 
them, which these, the latest, the most extended, and 
(as he would himself consider) the most important 
utterances of his career, should yield. 



On September 4th, at Columbus, in his first speech, 
presumably well prepared, inaugurating his tour to 
reconcile the American people to the Paris Treaty 
and the League of Nations, Mr. Wilson said: 

" I have been bred and am proud to have been bred, of the 
old Revolutionary stock which set this government up, when 

257 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

America was set up as a friend of mankind, and I know — if 
they do not — that America has never lost that vision, 
or . . ." 

Of the stock of which Mr. Wilson was bred, his 
father was the only representative born in America. 
Mr. Wilson's father, however, was hardly Revolu- 
tionary, in the ordinary sense; the American Revo- 
lution having been accomplished, so it is understood, 
before Woodrow Wilson's father was born, Febru- 
ary 28, 1822. But the Rev. Joseph Ruggles Wilson 
did what he could to atone for not having been 
present in 1776, by supporting the leaders of the 
Confederacy in 1861, and by the feat of helping 
set up the Southern Presbyterian Church in a con- 
vention held in the edifice in Augusta where he was 
preaching eloquent sermons in advocacy of slavery 
and secession. 

Apart from this participation in " Revolutionary " 
affairs, the stock from which Woodrow Wilson was 
bred and is proud to have been bred, had slight 
" Revolutionary " opportunities, seeing that his 
mother was born in England, reaching Canada in 
1833, and that all four of his grandparents were 
Britons, and all eight of his great-grand-parents of 
Revolutionary time were born, lived and died in 
Britain. 

Mr. Wilson's emancipation from slavish subser- 

258 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

viency to fact, his perception of the essential superi- 
ority of the word to the thing, is freshly illustrated 
in the above excerpt. 

This was at Columbus, in the morning. In the 
evening, at Indianapolis, the President repeated 
his reference to his Revolutionary ancestry; hoped 
that his hearers were of Revolutionary stock as he 
was: " There were only three millions of us then," 
he said. 1 

The President opened his Indianapolis speech with 
what he said would be an account of the " circum- 
stances of the war." The account began: 

" You will remember that a prince of the House of Aus- 
tria was slain in one of the cities of Serbia." 

The city of Serajevo, where Franz Ferdinand was 
slain, is the capital of Bosnia — then a province of 
Austria. 

The report of the first day of the tour was grati- 
fying in its demonstration of Mr. Wilson's loyalty 

1 There are other (of course unconscious) deviations from the 
biographical facts in several of Mr. Wilson's speeches, and, in con- 
sequence, the details given in the ordinary books of reference are 
not in all respects correct. The brief biographies printed in the 
Congressional Directory and in Who's Who assert that the Presi- 
dent's mother was born in Scotland. She was born in Carlisle, 
England. Both of these sketches affirm that Mr. Wilson was 
graduated from the University of Virginia in 1881. He would have 
been graduated from the University of Virginia in 1881, but fell 
sick in the autumn of 1880, and left the University without his 
degree. 

259 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

to the heart. On September 4th, he mentioned this 
organ nineteen times. The following were among 
his characteristic locutions: 

". . . that great throbbing heart which was so depressed, 
so forlorn, so sad." 

". . . the loving hearts who suffered " . . . 

" I think I know the heart of this great people." 

" The heart of this treaty, then, my fellow citizens, is . . ." 

" The heart of the League of Nations does not lie in any 
of the portions which have been discussed in public debate." 

" The heart of the covenant of the League is that the Na- 
tions solemnly covenant not to go to war for nine months." 

" Article X is the article which goes to the heart of this 
whole bad business." 

" One of the things which I have most at heart . . ." 

" Why, those clauses, my fellow citizens, draw the hearts 
of the world into the League, draw the noble impulses of the 
world together, and — make a poem of them." 

'* If you will just regard that as the heart of the treaty — 
for it is the heart of the treaty — then everything else about 
it is put in a different light. If we want to stand by that 
principle, then we can justify the history of America as we 
can in no other way, for that is the history and principle of 
America. That is at the heart of it." 

Indulging his well-understood predilection for the 
refrain, on this, the first day of his tour, the Presi- 
dent broke out into only two or three dozens of sen- 
tences like these: 

260 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

" Compared with the importance of America, the impor- 
tance of the Democratic party, the importance of the Republi- 
can party, the importance of every other party, is absolutely 
negligible." 

'You wonder why it is a bogy to anybody; you wonder 
what influences have made gentlemen afraid of it; you won- 
der why it is not obvious to everybody." 

" Let us never forget the purpose, the high purpose, the 
disinterested purpose, which . . ." 

"Revolutions don't spring up over night; revolutions 
gather through the ages; revolutions come from the suppres- 
sion of the human spirit; revolutions come because . . ." 

" We had taken by process of law the flower of our youth 
from every countryside, from every household, and we told 
those mothers and fathers and sisters and wives and sweet- 
hearts ... to end business of that sort, and if we do not end 
it and if we do not do the best that human concert of action 
can do to end it, we are of all men the most unfaithful, the 
most unfaithful to the loving hearts who suffered in this war, 
the most unfaithful to those households bowed in grief, yet 
lifted up with the feeling that the lad had lain down his life 
for great things, among other things in order that other lads 
might not have to do the same thing." 

". . . we were governed by a great representative assem- 
bly made up of the human passions, and that the best we 
could manage was that the high and fine passions should be 
in a majority, so that they could control the face of passion; 
so that they could check the things that were wrong; and 
this treaty seeks something like that. In drawing the hu- 
mane endeavors together, it makes a mirror of the fine pas- 

261 






THE STORY OF A STYLE 

sions of the world, of the philanthropic passions, and of its 
passion of human friendliness and helpfulness, for there is 
such a passion. It is the passion that has lifted us along 
the slow road of civilization ; it is the passion that has made 
ordered government possible; it is the passion that has made 
justice and established the thing in some happy part of the 
world." 

In the course of some 136 running words, of which 
more than three-fourths should be discounted as 
mere grammatical assistants (" and/' " be," " was," 
"is," "it is," "the," "of") the word "passion" 
occurs ten times; — in the course of some thirty-four 
necessary verbal representations of thought, Mr. 
Wilson's mind attaches itself to a single word, 
namely, " passion," every third word. 

We get, in this first day's deliverances, such char- 
acteristic accentuations as : " very profound pleas- 
ure" (not merely pleasure, not merely profound 
pleasure; but very profound pleasure); " vio- 
lently improbable" (not merely improbable) ; ({ ab- 
solute good faith"; "absolutely ignorant"; " ab- 
solutely negligible." " I want to say to you in all 
seriousness and soberness that ..." 

We get " visions " three times, and " voices " 
five times, (" tell them so in a voice as authentic as 
any voice in history," etc.) . We get " face to face " ; 
" a method of adjustment "; " in the last analysis "; 
" shot through with ..." 

262 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

Those good old nags, " processes " and " counsel," 
were not, on the first day, over-ridden. We get 
' the processes of history " and we learn that: " It 
was a matter of common counsel that strategic con- 
ditions were not in our thoughts." This sentence 
is peculiarly Wilsonian; it may have been a matter 
of common knowledge that strategic conditions were 
not in their thoughts; or a matter of common agree- 
ment that strategic conditions should not be in their 
thoughts ; but only the Wilsonian mind can find mean- 
ing, in the sentence, " It was a matter of common 
counsel that strategic conditions were not in our 
thoughts." 

On the first day of his tour, the President repeat- 
edly declared he had not come to debate; he had 
come to instruct; he must frankly admit that no- 
body had said anything about the treaty from which 
any conception of it could be formed; he was repeat- 
edly astonished and amazed and filled with wonder 
that anybody could misunderstand so plain a docu- 
ment as the Treaty and Covenant; he would not 
argue about it; he would state it. He seems to have 
entered upon the tour in a spirit even unusually im- 
patient with the senators of " pygmy minds " with 
" their eyes on the ground," and with all and sundry 
whose mental inferiority prevented their instant 
agreement with the result of his own lucid mental 
processes. 

263 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

I am trying to tell the people what is in the treaty. You 
would not know what was in it to read some of the speeches 
I read, and if you will be generous enough to me to read some 
of the things I say, I hope it will help to clarify a great 
many matters which have been very much obscured by some 
of the things which have been said." 

" I am astounded at some of the statements I see made 
about this treaty, and the truth is that they are made by per- 
sons who have not read the treaty, or who if they have read 
it, have not comprehended its meaning." 

11 That is the treaty. Did you ever hear of it before ? 
Did you ever know before what was in the treaty? Did any- 
body ever before tell you what the treaty was intended to 
do?" 

" I just wanted to have the pleasure of pointing out to 
you how absolutely ignorant of the treaty, and of the 
covenant, some of the men are who have been opposing. If 
they do read the English language, they do not understand 
the English language as I understand it." 

"If they read this treaty and this covenant, they only 
amaze me by their inability to understand what is plainly 
expressed." 

° Let them put up, or shut up." 

Yet, although he served notice that he was not 
going to debate with anybody, he asked himself, on 
this first day, some thirty argumentative questions, 
and answered them triumphantly every one. 

On this day he gave twelve different statements 
of the objects of the war, and six varieties of state- 

264 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

ment as to what " the heart of the treaty " was and 
was not, besides as many more as to what " the 
center " and " the essence " of the treaty was. He 
eight times declared that he entertained no doubt 
whatever that the people were overwhelmingly for 
the unamended treaty. 

The first day's report does not promise well for a 
month's performance free from the failings noted in 
former speeches. The repetitions, the impatience, 
the carelessness of fact, the over-emphasized confi- 
dence, coupled with the constant practice of mock de- 
bate, are disturbing. 



A second day of travel seems to have done noth- 
ing towards softening the asperities of the Presi- 
dent's language. At St. Louis on September 5th, 
those who were unable to see eye to eye with him he 
denounced as " contemptible quitters." Their " ig- 
norance " and their " aberrations " amazed him. 
As for himself, he was a plain American who wanted 
to hear plain talk and fill his lungs with wholesome 
air, such as he couldn't get in Washington — that's 
the kind of a man he was ! Among his compliments 
to being of inferior mind and his boasts of his own 
mind were these : 

11 1 have come here to-night to ask permission to discuss 

265 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

with you some of the very curious aberrations of thinking 
that have taken place in this country of late." 

" I hear some gentlemen, themselves incapable of altruistic 
purposes, say: ' Ah, but that is altruistic.' " 

" I am just trying to be what some men do not seem to 
be able to be — a simple, plain-thinking, plain-speaking 
American citizen." 

" Let them show me how they will prove that having 
gone into an enterprise, they are not absolutely contemptible 
quitters if they don't see the game through." 

11 That is not the kind of American I am." 

" Well, I am not a quitter, for one! " 

" I have come away from Washington to discuss them, 
because apparently it is difficult to discuss them in Wash- 
ington." 

" I wanted to come out and hear some plain American, 
hear the kind of talk that I am accustomed to talk, the only 
kind of talk that I can understand, get the only kind of at- 
mosphere with which I can fill my lungs wholesomely, and, 
then, incidentally, convey a hint in some quarters that the 
American people had not forgotten how to think." 

" Can any sane man hesitate . . . can any sane man ask 
the question? " 

" I have heard some men say with an amazing 
ignorance ..." 

" I wonder if some of the gentlemen who are comment- 
ing upon this treaty ever read it! If anybody will tell me 
which of them has not, I will send him a copy. It is written 
in two languages. On this side is the English and on that 
side is the French, and since it is evident that some men 

266 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

do not understand English, I hope that they understand 
French. There are excellent French dictionaries by which 
they can dig out the meaning, if they can not understand 
English. It is the plainest English that you could desire, par- 
ticularly the covenant of the league of nations. There is not 
a phrase of doubtful meaning in the whole document." 

" The real voice of the great people of America " 
spoke again in the President's ear, on September 5th; 
but if he had any visions that day, he neglected to 
tell about them. He again proved his devotion to 
the " throbbing heart of the world." 

". . . cuts at the very heart and is the only instrument 
that will cut to the very heart." 

". . . and if we say that we are in this world to live by 
ourselves and get what we can get out of it by any selfish 
process, then the reaction will change the whole heart of the 
world. . . ." 

As for " progress " and " processes," the wires 
this day were burdened with them only ten times, 
in such passages as: 

" War is a process of heat. Exposure is a process of 
cooling." 

" This is the beginning, not of a war, but of the processes 
which are going to make war like this impossible. There are 
no other processes than these that . . ." 

". . . believe that the processes of peace can be processes 

267 



</ 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

of domination and antagonism, instead of processes of co- 
operation." 

Three things were technically " handsome "; nine- 
teen questions were asked and answered; the sporting 
blood of the speaker was put into evidence by refer- 
ences to " a losing game," " quitters," " an open and 
shut game," " pawns," " playing a lone hand," a 
" freeze-out," etc. The refrain was chanted, as 
usual: 

" If you are China s friend, don't go into the counsel 
where you can act as China's friend. If you are China's 
friend, then put her in a position where these concessions, 
which have been made, need not be carried out. // you are 
China's friend, scuttle and run." 

". . . if we must stand apart and be the hostile rivals 
of the rest of the world, then we must do something else, we 
must be physically ready for anything to come. We must 
have a great standing army. We must see to it that . . ." 

" If the world is going bankrupt, if credit is going to be 
destroyed, if the industry of the races of the world is going 
to be . . ." 

Again at St. Louis on the 5th, during his after- 
luncheon speech, the President demonstrated hisi 
contempt for the commonplace virtue of accuracy, 
historical or geographical: 

"What was the old formula of Pan-Germanism? From 
Bremen to Bagdad, wasn't it? Well, look at the map. 

268 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

What lies between Bremen and Bagdad? After you get 
past the German territory, there is Poland. There is Bo- 
hemia, which we have made into Czecho-Slovakia. There 
is Hungary, which is divided from Austria and does not 
share Austria's strength. There is Roumania. There is 
Jugo-Slavia. There is broken Turkey; and then Persia and 
Bagdad." 

Well, look at the map. The Bremen to Bagdad 
Railroad does not pass within some hundred miles 
of Poland, does not touch Roumania, and does not 
enter Persia. 

In this evening speech, the President still once 
more refused to stoop to pander to the popular pre- 
judice in favor of truthfulness. He said: 

" Great Britain and another nation, as everybody knows, 
in order to make it more certain that Japan would come 
into the war to assist to clear the Pacific of the German fleet, 
had promised that any rights Germany had in China should, 
in case of victory by the Allies, pass to Japan." 

The fact is that everybody knows — at least, 
everybody who knows anything about the matter — 
that the secret treaties between Great Britian, 
France and Japan were made in March, 191 8, long 
after Japan had entered the war, and not in 19 14, as 
inducement to Japan to enter it. 1 

1 This note is written October 14th; the text above was written 
on September 6th. 

On September 6th, Senator Norris of Nebraska made in the Sen- 

269 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

The President began the next day's speaking 
(September 6th) at Kansas City, with a claim of 
having " substituted for the brutal processes of war 
the friendly processes of consultation." The world 
took " counsel " twice in the press report of the 
day; there were only two " visions "; the heart beat 
but twice, the face was looked into five times; only 
three things were done "absolutely"; "adjust- 
ments," " impulses," " enterprises," made but a bow 
or two apiece. 

There were three verbal errors, the worst being: 
" Into which scale shall we throw that magnificent 
equipoise that will be ours? " People do not throw 
equipoises into scales. Mr. Wilson began to fall 
back upon the habit of introducing statements with 
" I want to say to you that " — a prologomenous 
commonplace which he would have scorned in recol- 
lected writing. 

There were many other evidences of an increased 

ate a speech calling attention to the error; Mr. Morris telegraphed 
the President his remarks on this point. A few days later he re- 
ceived the following telegram: 

11 Garrison, Mon., Sept. 12. 
" Hon. G. W. Norris, U. S. Senate, Washington. 

" I thank you for correcting an unintentional inaccuracy in one 
of my recent speeches. 

" Woodrow Wilson." 
Nevertheless, at Los Angeles on September 20th, at Reno on the 
22nd, and at Cheyenne on the 24th, the President repeated the un- 
intentional inaccuracy. See Senate Document 120, pages 296, 316, 
343- 

27O 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

hesitancy of delivery; the appellation " Fellow-citi- 
zens " was used twenty-three times. 

His temper rose to heights unusual even for a 
man always easily irritated by ignorant dissent: 

". . . and yet there are men who approach the question 
with passion, with private passion, with party passion, who 
think only of some immediate advantage to themselves, or to 
a group of their fellow countrymen, and who look at the 
thing with the jaundiced eyes of those who have some private 
purpose of their own. When at last in the annals of man- 
kind they are gibbeted, they will regret that the gibbet is 
so high." 

" There are men who are conscientiously opposed to it, but 
they will pardon me if I say, ignorantly opposed." 

tl I have been a student of the English language all my 
life and I do not see a single obscure sentence in the whole 
document. Some gentlemen either have not read it or do 
not understand the English language ; but, fortunately, on the 
right-hand page it is printed in English and on the left-hand 
page it is printed in French. Now, if they do not under- 
stand English, I hope they will get a French dictionary and 
dig out the meaning on that side." 

" Opposition is the specialty of those who are Bolshevistic- 
ally inclined." 

" I have been very much amazed and very much amused 
to see that the statesmanship of some gentlemen consists 
in . . ." 

" Let them put up, or shut up." 

The refrain was intoned in such examples as these : 

271 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

". . . say they are for that sort of revolution, when that 
sort of revolution means government by terror, government 
by force, not government by vote." 

" Is there any business man here who would be willing to 
see the world go bankrupt and the business of the world 
stop? I do not like to argue this thing on this basis but if 
you want to talk business I am ready to talk business. It is 
a matter of how much you are going to get for your money. 
You are not going to get one-half as much as antagonists as 
you will get as partners." 

" There was no assembly chosen to frame a constitution 
for them, or rather there was an Assembly chosen to choose 
a constitution for them, and it was suppressed and dispersed, 
and a little group of men just as selfish, just as ruthless, just 
as pitiless . . . And in other parts of Europe the poison 
spread, the poison of disorder, the poison of revolt, the poison 
of chaos." 

" The processes of frank discussion are the processes of 
peace not only, but the processes of settlement, and those are 
the processes which are set up for all the powerful nations of 
the world." 

The s addiction seems to appear in the peroration 
with which the day closed at Des Moines: 

". . . that slow and toilsome march, toilsome and full of 
the kind of agony that brings bloody sweat, but nevertheless 
going up a slow incline to those distant heights upon which 
will shine at last the serene light of justice, suffusing a whole 
world in blissful peace." 

272 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

In the course of his two speeches this day, the 
President asked himself thirty-one questions — all 
of which he satisfactorily answered. At Des 
Moines he repeated the mistake of placing Bagdad 
in Persia : 

" The formula of Pan-Germanism, you remember, was 
Bremen to Bagdad — Bremen on the North Sea to Bagdad 
in Persia." 1 

The President made no speech on Sunday, Septem- 
ber 7th. On the 8th he spoke at Omaha and at 
Sioux Falls. The big medicine was duly appealed 
to: "processes" and "counsel" exerted their ac- 
customed magic. The President heard his " voices " 
and told of a " vision " which had so impressed him 
that he said, in a sentence quite startlingly morbid, 
" If I felt that I personally stood in any way in the 
way of the settlement, I would glady die that it 
might be consummated." He spoke feelingly, and 
more than a dozen times, of " hearts." 

" The heart of this people is sure. The heart of this 
people is true." 

" Why, my fellow citizens, the heart of that covenant is 

1 According to press reports, the President, speaking in Des 
Moines, alluded to Prague as the capital of Poland. This error, 
however, does not appear in the authorized official report, which 
{Senate Document 120, 66th Congress, First Session, page 65) cor- 
rectly gives Warsaw as the Polish capital). 

273 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

that there shall be no war. To listen to some of the speeches 
that you may have listened to or read, you would think that 
the heart of it was that it was an arrangement for war. On 
the contrary, this is the heart of that treaty. . . ." 

" The heart of America beats in these great prairies and on 
these hillsides. The voices that are most audible in Wash- 
ington are not voices that anybody cares to listen to . . ." 

Moreover he gave two other quite different state- 
ments as to what the heart of the treaty was, making 
nine accounts of the matter up to date. He was 
pretty peevish again with senators and other inferior 
minds : 

" Some gentlemen who doubt the meaning of English 
words have thought that advice did not mean advice, but I 
do not know anything else that it does mean, and I have 
studied English most of my life and speak it with reasonable 
correctness." 

" That puzzles me, my fellow citizens. The English lan- 
guage seems to have got some new meaning since I studied 
it that bothers these gentlemen. I do not know what dic- 
tionaries they resort to. I do not know what manuals of 
conscience they can possibly resort to." 

11 I suggested the other night that if they do not like that 
language there is another language in here. That page is 
English [illustrating] ; this page is French [illustrating] — 
the same thing. If the English does not suit them, let them 
engage the interest of some French scholar and see if they like 
the French better." 

274 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

" No man, even in the secrets of Providence, can tell how 
long it will take the United States Senate to do anything." 

The refrain was again insistent. 

". . . the man that picks flaws in it, or rather that picks 
out the flaws that are in it — for there are flaws in it — be- 
cause of the magnitude of the thing and because of the maj- 
esty of the interests involved, forgets the magnitude of the 
thing and forgets the majesty of the . . ." 

" Germany had been preparing every resource and per- 
fecting every skill, developing every invention. . . . Every- 
body had been looking on. E^rybody had known. It was 
known in every war office." 

" Well, you say, why not? Well, why not, why not, my 
fellow citizens? " 

A characteristic protestation interrupted the Presi- 
dent's rheotoric; it was an assurance that he cared 
for nothing but facts, and an exhortation to his hear- 
ers to be like him; it contained also the naive and 
significant admission that a denial was suspicious: 

11 There is an old saying accredited to a rather cynical 
politician of what I hope I may regard as the older school, 
who said to his son, ' John, do not bother your head about 
lies; they will take care of themselves; but if you ever hear 
me denying anything, you may be sure it is so.' The only 
thing we are afraid of, the only thing we dodge, is the truth. 
If we see facts coming our way, it is just as well to get out 

275 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

of the way. Always take this attitude, my friends, toward 
facts; always try to see them coming first, so that they will 
not catch you at unawares." 

The next day, the 9th, at St. Paul, the protesta- 
tion of devotion to facts took the following form: 

" There is one thing that I respect more than any other, 
and that is a fact. I remember, when I was governor of the 
State of New Jersey, I was very urgently pressing some meas- 
ures which a particular member of the senate of the State, 
whom I knew and liked very much, was opposed to. His 
constituents were very much in favor of it, and they sent an 
influential committee down personally to conduct his vote; 
and after he had voted for the measure they brought him, 
looking a little sheepish, into my office to be congratulated. 
Well, he and I kept as straight faces as we could, and I con- 
gratulated him very warmly, and then with a very heavy 
wink he said to me behind his hand, ' Governor, they never 
get me if I see 'em coming first.' Now, that is not a very 
high political principle, but I commend that principle to you 
with regards to facts. Never let them get you if you see 
them." 

And, almost immediately, Mr. Wilson proved that 
his own respect and affection for a fact, his stern 
sense of the duty of fastidious loyalty to truth, was 
second to nothing except his love of a good rhetorical 
turn. Eulogizing the American soldier, he ex- 
claimed: 

276 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

" It is based upon long experience that in every part of the 
world I can recognize an American the minute I see him." 

Mr. Wilson has been in England, France, Bel- 
gium, Italy, Bermuda and the United States. There 
are several other parts of the world. 

The school-master said to the people of the Twin 
Cities: " I am not arguing with you; I am merely 
telling you." He lectured his far-away refractory 
scholars at Washington: 

" The gentlemen who are making this mistake are making 
a mistake they will reflect upon in obscurity for the rest of 
their lives." 

" I see gentlemen burying their heads in something and 
thinking that nobody sees that they have submerged their 
thinking apparatus. That is what I mean by being os- 
triches." 

On this date, the partial report of Mr. Wilson's 
remarks contained the following characteristic sen- 
tences : 

" Did you think they were seeking to aggrandize America 
some way? Did you think they were going to take some- 
thing for America that had belonged to somebody else ? Did 
you think that they were going. . . ." 

" In every other country there is some class that domi- 
nates: or some governmental authority that determines the 
course of policy, or some ancient system of land laws that 

277 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

limits the freedom of land tenure, or some ancient custom 
which . . ." 

" Liberty is a thing of slow construction. Liberty is a 
thing of universal cooperation. Liberty is a thing which 
you must build up by habit. Liberty is a thing which is 
rooted and grounded in character. 

". . . by a fire years' war, particularly by a five years' 
zuar in which they are not yet conscious of the wrong they 
did or the wrong way in which they did it; and they are ex- 
pecting the time of the revival of their power, and, along 
with the revival of their power. . . . The German bankers, 
the German merchants, and the German manufacturers did 
not want this war. . . ." 

" I saw many fine sights in Paris, many gallant sights, 
many sights that quickened the pulse, but my pulse 
never . . ." 

" I do not mean to say that dissatisfaction is universal dis- 
satisfaction, because there are situations in many instances of 
satisfaction." 

" We have got to play our part and we have got to play 
it either as boards of directors or as outside spectators. We 
can play it inside or on the curb, and you know how incon- 
venient it is to play it on the curb. The facts are marching 
upon us and the world is marching with them." 

" I am far from intimating that, but I am intimating this: 
that the people of the world are tired of every other kind of 
experiment except the one we are going to try [he means, 
tired of every kind of experiment but the one we are going 
to make]. I have called it an experiment; I frankly admit 

278 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

that it is an experiment, but it is a very promising experi- 



ment." 



". . . the faces of our soldiers, that incomparable Ameri- 
can spirit which you do not see the like of anywhere ; that 
universal brightness of expression, as if every man knew 
there was a future and that he had something to do with 
molding it, instead of that dull, expressionless face which 
means that there is nothing but a past and a burdensome 
present. You do not see that in the American face. The 
American face mirrors the future, and, my fellow citizens, the 
American purpose mirrors the future of the world." 

Here the President denounced opposition to the 
treaty as born of German-American intrigue, likened 
the " hyphen " to a serpent and gave an imitation of 
its hiss. He ridiculed the Senate for debating so 
long — God Almighty did not know when it would 
get through — held three debates with himself, in 
one of which he asked and answered eighteen ques- 
tions; and proclaimed his " unbounded confidence ' 
and his " absolute, unclouded confidence " in the re- 
sult. 



" It seems very strange ... it seems very strange . . . 
it seems very strange. . . . The mind of the world. . . . 
The mind of the world . . . likely at any time to blaze out 
in the world and which did blaze out and set the world on 
fire. The trouble was at the heart of Europe. At the heart 
of Europe there were suffering people with hearts on fire. 

279 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

That is the principle that is at the heart of this treaty, and 
if that principle cannot be maintained, then there will ensue 
upon it the passion that dwelt in the hearts of those peo- 
ples, a despair that will bring about universal unrest. Men 
in despair do not construct governments. Men in despair 
destroy governments." 

So it ran at Bismarck on September ioth. Among 
the eleven hearts mentioned, one was that of the 
treaty, which now was disclosed to be Article X. 

The address at Billings, Montana, on the nth, 
was extraordinarily interesting. No previous one 
had been quite so highly charged with emotion. 
The President declared that one of the hardest 
things he had to do during the war was to refrain 
from taking a gun and going. From the context 
it is clear Mr. Wilson meant to be understood liter- 
ally and seriously. He talked of poison again, and 
of dark and dreadful things: " There are apostles of 
Lenine in our midst. I cannot imagine what it 
means to be an apostle of Lenine. It means to be an 
apostle of the night, of chaos." Death came and 
tears fell and graves yawned. The liturgic drone of 
the refrain became a lacrymose chant: " There are 
hot tears upon every cheek and those tears are tears 
of — sorrow! " " I wonder when we speak of the 
whole world whether we have any conception that 
the human heart beats everywhere the same! " 

280 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

What grade of thought is being organized by a 
brain that functions like this? 

..." accept this treaty or play a lone hand. To play a 
lone hand means we must be ready to play by ourselves. . . . 
If you are going to play a lone hand, the hand you play must 
be upon the handAe of the sword. You cannot play a lone 
hand and do your civil business except with the other hand — 
one hand incidental for the business of peace, the other hand 
constantly for the assertion of force. It is either this treaty 
or the lone hand, and the lone hand . . ." 

[Senate Document, 66th Congress, No. 120, pp. 13 1-2.] 

The President was anxious that the people of 
Montana should bear in mind that the war began 
because the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was slain in 
Serbia. " Don't you remember," he asked (he 
himself " remembered " distinctly) , " that the Crown 
Prince of Austria was assassinated in Serbia? " 

It would, of course, be easy to entertain our- 
selves with reflections on the special qualifications 
for remaking maps displayed by one who persists 
in deviations, like these of Mr. Wilson, from geo- 
graphical and historical fact. But their interest for 
us is not one of entertainment; they impel us to a 
scrutiny of the mental conditions under which they 
are possible. 

It is of course increditable that Mr. Wilson had 
never been informed correctly, for example, of the 

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THE STORY OF A STYLE 

scene of Franz Ferdinand's murder. The fact that 
in several speeches he laid emphasis upon it as a chief 
element in the Austrian crime, that the Apostolic and 
Catholic Government was dealing with a murder 
done in Serbia, shows how much importance he 
placed upon the scene of the deed. How, then, came 
he to retain a recollection so far from the fact that it 
was the reverse of the fact? Did his cognition re- 
fuse to register the fact when it was orginally made 
known? Did it continue in that refusal during all 
the weeks of international agitation that prefaced the 
war? Or had he even originally reversed the fact 
as it entered his apprehension? Or did his mind 
originally and during those weeks merely neglect 
the circumstance of place as negligible, and only 
five years later awaken to its importance? And by 
what process did he persuade himself that the capital 
of Bosnia was in Serbia, and that not the assassin, 
but the victims, were on foreign soil? 

The psychoanalysts have opened our eyes to the 
truth that there is nothing fortuitous in " forget- 
tings " and errors of memory. The mechanism of 
" forgetfulness " and " mistakes " has been so far 
explored as to make it clear that there is a practical 
reason underneath every error of memory. It 
might be interesting to have this lapse analyzed 
by competent psychopathological authority. It is 
incredible that some time or other in his studious 

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THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

days (say, when he was reading The Arabian 
Nights), Mr. Wilson did not learn that Bagdad is in 
Mesopotamia; was not taught that Prague is the 
proud and ancient capital of Bohemia; difficult to 
believe that their location was not again and again 
recalled to his mind by events of the war. 

The astonishing unreliability of Mr. Wilson's 
most often repeated statements concerning highly 
important facts find their explanation in the princi- 
ple announced by Freud (Psychopathology of Every- 
day Life, 256) : u Of all the faulty actions the 
mechanism of the error seems to be the most super- 
ficial. That is, the occurrence of the error invariably 
indicates that the mental activity concerned had to 
struggle with some disturbing influences." 

At Helena that evening the President's long 
speech, delivered " with the utmost candor," " very 
solemnly " and " with great openness of mind," was 
largely concerned with " hearts " ( fourteen of them) , 
11 visions," " voices," " venom," " advantages," and 
" adjustments." He said he would " venture to 
think that" (twice), "take the liberty of saying 
that" (twice), and "take occasion to say that"; 
and he babbled echoes by the hour. He talked of 
" very unsettled unrest " and was afraid that " men 
like these would have to die again! 1 He paid his 
respects to " spiders " and " traitors " and " liars "; 
he was " amazed at the forgetfulness " of certain 

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THE STORY OF A STYLE 

gentlemen in Washington, and he wondered " where 
some gentlemen have been." He himself did not 
forget to remind his auditors that " the Crown 
Prince of Austria was assassinated in Serbia." And 
in an outburst of rage he turned upon trusted friends 
who, he declared, had tried to mislead him about 
Mexico. " I learned what I know about Mexico," 
he proclaimed, " by hearing a large number of liars 
tell me all about it." He confessed the liars had 
confused him, but then he " had a lucid interval " 
and recognized the true character of their reports. 
There were " regions into which their lying capacity 
did not extend. They had not had time to make up 
any lies about that." So his calm penetration ascer- 
tained the truth after all; "lies never match" be- 
fore the superior eye of discerning reason. " So I 
learned the truth about Mexico by listening to a 
sufficiently large number of liars! " 

This interesting passage, in which the President 
rung the changes on the gentle word, " liar," 
throughout the octave, concluded with a morbid 
peon of truth, hymned as his own peculiar possession: 

" You may trample it under foot, you may blind its eyes 
with blood — but you cannot kill it, and sooner or later it 
rises up, it seeks, it gets, its revenge! " 

This, then, is the end of the first week of the Presi- 
dent's tour. 

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THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

We have had six days of incorrigible echolalia; 
confidently reiterated misstatements of fact, irri- 
tated denunciations of opponents, amazement at their 
" aberrations," ridicule of their pretense to be able 
even to read; boasts of his own superiority and con- 
fidence ; allusions to his " lucid moments " ; assertions 
that there is nothing to debate, and scorn of those 
who won't debate it, accompanying a continuous per- 
formance of self-debate; hesitating delivery, find- 
ing freedom chiefly in explosions of rage or pictur- 
ings of serpents, poison, corpses, ghouls, and chaos; 
with hourly exhibitions of unreasonable dislike for 
Washington, which he pretends to condemn, but 
which obsesses his imagination, and from which he 
has — shall we say? — fled. 

More and more the journey takes on the character 
of a flight — a flight from his critics, from Washing- 
ton, loathed as a localization of disturbances, from 
his problems, from himself. Will it win escape? 

So far as it has progressed, the tour does not 
seem to manifest a happy influence upon the Presi- 
dent. He entered upon it under an emotional load. 
Its scenes have been kaleidoscopic, its physical ex- 
actions fatiguing. But it is not incongruous that 
a restless mind should seek rest in restless scenes. 
Other environments would doubtless have been more 
happily chosen, if the inner conflict had not compelled 
to these; but, while excitement, with its attendant 

285 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

fatigued reactions, may furnish occasion for, may 
even cause, exhibitions which otherwise would not 
have been made, it cannot, after all, bring into ac- 
tivity forces which were not already static; cannot 
reveal conditions which were not already existing. 

Those conditions — a week of peculiar revelation 
leaves no excuse for longer hesitating to say — are 
those attendant upon constitutional doubt. 

All the addictions, covering affectations, habits, 
refuges in symbolism, personifications, and magical 
invocations of words, discerned in earlier chapters, 
have, during this week, blossomed into greater 
luxuriance. The irradiations of mysticism have be- 
come more pronounced. 

Especially intensified during this week has been 
the addiction to repetition of sounds and words. If 
the phonetic phenomena described in foregoing pages 
of this book written months ago seemed then by any 
possibility mere fancies of an over-ingenious analysis, 
any scruple as to their reality has now been erased. 
Illustrations of echolalia so crowd the columns of the 
press reports of the President's Western addresses 
that it seems idle to cumber these pages with further 
proofs of a propensity so patent. 

Apart from its significance as a symptom of fa- 
tigue and abdication of thought control, repetition 
may on just ground be regarded as a projection of 
doubt. An uncertain mind seeks to escape from its 

286 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

indecision by reiteration; seeks to persuade itself 
that it is positive. But it is just because it is tor- 
mented by unconscious uncertainty, that it cannot re- 
lease the idea the necessity of a decision on which 
is agitating it. It is held fascinated by the image 
of its own distress; it haunts the scene of its tragic 
struggle. The wavering intellect tends to dwell, 
tends to over-emphasize, and yet is anxious to es- 
cape. This it often is able to do by a trick; it 
slips away under cover of an alliteration or a phone- 
tic antanaclasis; passing, blandly, from the word 
which represents the conflict, to another quite inno- 
cent word of similar sound. While it is being per- 
mitted to resound, repetition is echoing an inner con- 
flict; it is the effect of, and the picture of, a brake on 
the progress of thought; the result of struggles 
within a psychic complex which tends to paralyze the 
brain. 

The intensification of the echolalic addiction, there- 
fore, is a symptom easily to be understood and natu- 
rally to be expected, among the other phenomena of 
this somewhat disturbing week. 

The remarks of the President at Coeur D'Alene, 
on the 1 2th, were, not unnaturally, even unusually 
full of " heart." Here he twice professed to be 
11 amazed " that anybody could oppose the treaty. 
He charged that Germany was working against it; 

287 



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THE STORY OF A STYLE 

German propaganda had dared to raise its head 
again. He wanted to tell them that now and here; 
he wanted to tell it in tones so loud that they would 
reach the world; he knew what he was talking about. 
He himself was an American, had saturated himself 
since a boy with the traditions of America. But — 
with a singular turn of impulse — he cried: " Do 
not let anybody delude you, my fellow-citizens, with 
the pose of being an American. If I am an Ameri- 
can I want at least to be an intelligent American. 
If I am a true American I will study the true interests 
of America. If I am a true American I will have 
the world vision that America has always had, draw- 
ing her blood, drawing her genius, as she has drawn 
her people, out of all the great constructive peoples 
of the world. A true American conceives America 

In the evening at Spokane, the President com- 
plained: "I want to tell you, my fellow-citizens, 
that there is one element in this whole discussion 
which ought not to be in it. There is, though I say 
it myself, an element of personal bitterness. One 
would suppose that this covenant of the League of 
Nations was first thought of and first invented and 
first written by a man named Wilson." If they 
wanted to make it a personal matter, they could. 
" I am ready to fight from now until all the fight 
has been taken out of me by death ! " 

288 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

The narcistic complex came to light again in the 
lack of modesty with which the President described 
the part he had played at Versailles in persuading the 
Supreme Council to put recognition of the Monroe 
doctrine into the treaty. This was the most wonder- 
ful treaty in the world's history and " that is the 
most extraordinary sentence in the treaty. I have 
made a great many speeches in my life, perhaps too 
many, but I do not think that I ever put so much of 
what I hope was the best in me as I put in the speech 
in the conference on the League of Nations in favor 
of the Monroe doctrine, and it was upon that oc- 
casion that it was embodied. And we have this ex- 
traordinary spectacle, of the world recognizing the 
validity of the Monroe doctrine." Yet there were 
gentlemen who actually asked for more ! He sub- 
mitted that to ask for more than he had achieved 
was " absolutely irrational." 

When thought hesitated, automatic vocalization 
did not fail: 

" Men do not hope in Europe as they hope in America. 
They hope tremblingly. They hope fearfully. They do not 
hope with confidence." 

" Where are your programs? How can you carry a pro- 
gram out when every man is taking what he can get? How 
can you carry a program out when there is no authority upon 
which to base it? How can you carry a program out . . . 

" Out upon these quiet hills and in these great valleys it 

289 



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v 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

is difficult sometimes for me to remember the turmoil of the 
world in which I have been mixing on the other side of the 
sea; it is difficult for me to remember the surging passions 
which moved upon the face of the other continents of the 
world ; it is difficult for me to remember the infinite suffer- 
ing that happened even in this beloved country ; it is difficult 
for me to remember the delegations from weak peoples that 
came to me in Paris, figuratively speaking, with outstretched 
hands, pleading that America should lead the way out of the 
darkness into the light; it is difficult out here to re- 
member . . ." 

The two addresses of Saturday, the 13th, at Ta- 
coma and Seattle, were those of a tired man at the 
end of a hard week. The President was still alert 
enough to be " amazed " at the irrationality and un- 
truthfulness of his adversaries, and he did not for- 
get again to assassinate the Austrian Crown Prince 
in Serbia. The fetishes of the medicine-bag must 
have been pretty tired too, by night; the drone of the 
incantation ran sometimes to this extreme: 

" We must see that the processes of peace, the processes 
of discussion, the processes of fairness, the processes of equity, 
the processes of sympathy penetrate all our affairs." 

He talked about attempts to " qualify the process 
which is inevitable " and " the process of Germany's 
Constitution." He drew a touching picture of the 
lonely farmer, without even a boy to help him at 

290 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

his chores, yearning to " underwrite civilization " 
because " he realizes that the world is hungry, that 
the world is naked, that the world is suffering." 



Sunday could hardly have been a day of reassur- 
ing rest. On Monday, the 15th, at Portland, the 
President began by boasting of his Scottish blood 
(his mother was English, his father Irish-Amer- 
ican) and his ancestors, who, as Covenanters, raised 
Cain in despite of man or devil. Like them, he was 
going to see this job through. " Let gentlemen be- 
ware, therefore, how they disappoint the world. 
Let gentlemen beware how they betray the immem- 
orial principles of the United States. Let men not 
make the mistake . . ." He declared he was aware 
that all over the country pro-German propaganda 
was beginning to be active again. " And the poison 
of failure is being injected into the fine body politics 
of the world, a sort of paralysis, a sort of fear." 
. . . " a sob ' . . . " a tear brushed hastily off the 
cheek " ... 4 a flood of tears "... But there is 
" one thing you cannot kill "... He had been tell- 
ing some friends this very day a legendary story of 
the Middle Ages: A certain chieftain of a half-civ- 
ilized tribe commanded his unwilling subjects to vio- 
late a sacred tradition. " He blazed out upon them : 
4 Don't you know that I can put you to death?' 

291 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

' Yes,' they said, ' and don't you know that we can 
die cursing you! ' " 

The President had been telling that story to some 
friends to-day, he said, and now he told it to the 
world. Yes, they might try, but they could not kill 
the spirit. Unjustly slain, " the whole spirit of the 
tribe could CURSE . . . Out of the spilt blood, 
would spring up, as it were, armed men, like dragon's 
teeth, to overwhelm! " 

Decidedly, what with Covenanters on tombstones, 
poison, paralysis, tears, murder, curses and dragon's 
teeth, all on Monday, this is not going to be a calm 
week. Even the mellifluous refrain is affected: 
" America is a homogeneous people, after all; homo- 
geneous in its ideals, homogeneous in its purpose, 
homogeneous in the (in the, in the) in-fections which 
it had caught from a common light:" 

The San Francisco speeches, on the 17th, were of 
noticeably decreased vigor. With the extreme at- 
tenuation of thought now manifest, dependence upon 
verbal automatism became, if possible, even more 
glaring. The first address, indeed, opened with a 
new phrase: " moral compulsion"; it was echoed 
twelve times in the course of two minutes, and then 
forgotten. In a single address, four different vir- 
tues were each declared to be " the heart of the 
treaty." Many errors of fact, including the fa- 

292 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

miliar ones in relation to Poland, Roumania and Per- 
sia, were made. 

There was an abandonment of the vilipend, how- 
ever. The President's mood had changed. He 
was, or he declared he was, supremely confident of 
himself and his cause. But he was no longer 
" amazed " at the stupidity of senators. He was 
merely " puzzled " — of course, " very much puz- 
zled," " profoundly puzzled." He confessed that 
as he had crossed the continent, he had " feared at 
times that there were those who did not realize just 
what the heart of the question " was. But of course 
the treaty and covenant were going through. " I 
am arguing the matter only because I am a very pa- 
tient man. . . . The only thing that makes the 
world inhabitable is that it is sometimes ruled by its 
purest spirits." There was no profession of purity 
or wisdom that Mr. Wilson deemed it immodest to 
make. He could not understand how a man who 
had conceived wrong — even conceived wrong, could 
ever go to sleep. " The Versailles Congress had in- 
augurated a new world of beauty and order. An 
illumination of profound understanding of human af- 
fairs shines upon the deliberations of that confer- 
ence that never shone upon the deliberations of any 
other international conference in history." But 
even in that place of celestial light, there had to be 
an inner circle of specially endowed illuminati. " I 

293 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

was glad after I had inaugurated it, that I drew to- 
gether the little body which was called the Big 
Four/' 

Still, he humbly admitted his dependence upon the 
even superior wisdom of an Almighty God. He con- 
fessed that the disordered world could not be guided 
by finite intelligence; " if I thought so," he wearily 
said, " I should not know how to reason my way to 
sanity." " I believe in Divine providence," he con- 
cluded. u If I did not, / would go crazy." 

In his brief address at Berkeley on the 18th, the 
President said: U A remark was repeated to me 
that was made after the address I made in San 
Francisco last night. Some man said that after 
hearing an exposition of what was really in the 
treaty, he was puzzled; he wondered what the de- 
bate was about; it all seemed so simple." Mr. Wil- 
son again repeated this remark at Oakland a few 
hours later, this time remembering that the gen- 
tleman quoted was " a very thoughtful man, I was 
told," and that he had said " he wondered what the 
debate was about; it all seemed so simple, so ob- 
vious, so natural." 

Indications that all is indeed not serene confidence 
in Mr. Wilson's mind are furnished by the import- 
ance he attaches to a single testimony like that twice 
to-day recounted. 

294 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

At San Diego, September 20, the President de- 
scribed five different and distinct things as each " the 
heart " or in the " heart of the treaty." The day 
was apparently one of much fag. 

On the 2 1 st at Los Angeles, the President again 
grew bitter. Something, he said, had happened. 
When he arrived home with the Treaty, there was 
no sort of doubt the whole nation would have ac- 
cepted it without a single change either in wording 
or punctuation. But something had intervened; he 
would not say what; he would not judge what. He 
did not understand it. But he understood a part of 
it. Something had " raised its hideous head." " I 
hear the hiss of it on every side." 

The trouble was, he said, in another droop of 
spirits, that there was little use in trying to reason 
against unreason. Twice to-day the President re- 
ferred to a lesson he had received from his father. 
This was it: 

" My good father used to teach me that you cannot reason 
out of a man what reason did not put in him." 

It is significant that as his difficulties seem to 
daunt him, Mr. Wilson's mind takes refuge in a say- 
ing used by his father — the chief formative influ- 
ence upon his mental character. And significant also 

295 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

that the consoling apothegm should be a depreciation 
of reason. 

It is with this despairing note upon his lips that 
the President prepares to-morrow to turn his face 
homeward. 



Thoughts of tides, pulses, reactions gave at Reno, 
on September 23rd, a slightly new color to what has 
become Mr. Wilson's set speech. He professed an 
exhilaration in the frontier environment. The move- 
ment of our adventurous population had always been 
one way — onward. There had never been any re- 
turning tides. The American army, too, knew how 
to go only one way — didn't know how to retreat. 
That was a fine thing. If certain gentlemen who 
were criticizing him were ever to 

11 feel the impulse of courage instead of the impulse of 
cowardice, they will realize how much better it feels. Your 
blood is at least warm and comfortable, and the red cor- 
puscles are in command, when you have got some spunk 
in you ; but when you have not, when you are afraid some- 
body is going to put over something on you, you are furtive 
and go about looking out for things, and your blood is cold 
and you shiver as you turn a dark corner." 

Quite clearly, there is here not a mere literary 
description of the psychic condition of funk; too 
vivid for that, it is, beyond question, a naive confes- 

296 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

sion of personal experience of it. Even more than 
that: it is suspiciously like unconscious evidence that 
the described condition is, at the present moment, 
precisely that against which the orator is fighting. 

They have a big organ, and, by repute, an ex- 
traordinarily fine choir at the Tabernacle, Salt Lake 
City. But never, until September 23, 1920, surely, 
here, or anywhere since Music, heavenly maid, was 
young, have the echoes of symbolic sound thus, in 
the spent retirement of articulated reason, chanted 
the magic cadence of reverberant phrase: 

" I have come to present a theme ... in presenting this 
theme, because the theme ... is a theme. . . . We sent our 
boys across the sea to defeat the purpose of Germany, but 
after we had defeated the purpose of Germany . . . One by 
one the objections have melted away. One by one it has 
become evident that the objections were without sufficient 
foundation. One by one it has become impossible to sup- 
port them as objections, and at last we come to the very 
heart of the matter. 

" It was easier to train an army in America than any- 
where else because you have to train them to go only one 
way. They went only one way . . . and the people of the 
United States go only one way. 

" Does the United States want . . .? Does the United 
States want . . .? If you want to put out a fire in Utah, 
you do not send to Oklahoma for the engine. If you want 

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THE STORY OF A STYLE 

to put out a fire in the Balkans, if you want to stamp out the 
flame, you do not send to the United States . . . 

" That is not what this resolution says. This resolution 
says . . . We do not want . . . we do not want . . . but 
we want ... I appeal, and I appeal with confidence . . . 
I appeal ... I know them to be highminded, and I know 
them to be men whose character and judgment I respect and 
whose motives I respect as much as I respect . . . Are they 
willing . . . are they willing . . . The world knows . . . 
it knows ... it knows ... it knows ... It is inconceiv- 
able ... it is inconceivable . . . The taproot of war is still 
sunk in the soil of passion. I am for cutting the taproot of 
war ... I am for ... It is pretty hard to stay crazy mad 
for nine months. If you stay crazy mad, or crazy anything 
else, for nine months, it will be wise to segregate you. The 
heart of this covenant is . . . My heart goes out to China, 
that great people, that learned people, that accomplished peo- 
ple, that honest people. ... It is a test, an acid test ... If 
you are timid, I can tell you ... If you are squeamish, I 
will tell you. . . . The only thing you are afraid of is the 
truth. The only thing you dare not face is the truth. The 
only thing that will get you is the truth, and the only thing 
that will conquer is the truth. I ask your assistance ... I 
ask you to make it felt . . . We want to be friends of each 
other as well as friends of mankind. We want America to 
be united. We want America to be a body of brethren, 
and if America is a body of brethren . . ." 

But there was a surprisingly irrational misappre- 
hension on the part of the enchanted auditors in the 

298 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

Tabernacle. The President read a reservation 
which (he somehow failed to make it clear) it was 
impiously proposed to make upon the sacred lan- 
guage of the Treaty. The vast and stupid audience 
applauded the blasphemy! And the recitative of 
the orator rose, for a moment, to the note of battle : 

11 If you have a knife in your hands with which you intend 
to cut out the heart of this covenant, applaud, but if you 
want this covenant to have a heart in it, and want it to 
have a purpose in it, consider what I am saying. This is 
cutting out the heart of the covenant. Do you want to do 
that? Do you want to join those processes of paralysis which 
are attacking the heart of the treaty itself? " x 

Cheyenne, September 24th. 

And still the philosophic jaw 
Doth triturate the patient straw. 

The President began the 25th at Denver with an 
elaborate reply to the objection that his League of 
Nations plan gave six votes to Great Britain against 
the single vote allowed the United States. Our in- 
terest here is not at all in the merits or vices of the 
League of Nations Covenant, but solely in the state 
of the President's logical powers. His statement 
ran: 

1 The interruption, and the rejoinder from the platform are sup- 
pressed in the official rescript of the President's Western addresses. 

299 



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V 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

" You are constantly being told that Great Britain has 
six votes and we have one. They have six votes in the As- 
sembly and the Assembly don't vote. So that bubble is 
exploded. There are several matters in which the vote of 
the Assembly must cooperate with the vote of the Council, 
but in every such case a unanimous vote of the Council is 
necessary." 

The above sentences were consecutive. They set 
forth that: 

There are several matters in which the vote of 
the Assembly must cooperate with that of the Coun- 
cil, but the Assembly does not vote. Also Great 
Britain has six votes in the Assemblv, which doesn't 
vote. So that bubble is exploded. 

Five hours later it was exploded again. At 
Pueblo the President said: 

" You have heard of six votes belonging to Great Britain. 
Those six votes are not in the Council. They are in the As- 
sembly, and the interesting thing is that the Assembly does 
not vote. I must modify that statement a little but essen- 
tially it is absolutely true. In every matter in which the As- 
sembly « given a vote (and there are only four or five) its 
votes does not count unless concurred in by the representa- 
tives of all the nations represented on the Council, so there 
is no validity to the vote of the Assembly unless approved by 
the United States, so the vote of the United States is as big 
as the six votes of the British Empire." 

300 



THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

Less agile minds may be perplexed as to how a 
statement which requires to be modified a little can 
still remain essentially absolutely true; also how an 
Assembly, the interesting thing about which is that 
it does not vote, is given a vote in only four or five 
matters; likewise, why the vote of an Assembly 
which does not vote needs to be concurred in; fur- 
thermore, why, to give validity to the vote of an As- 
sembly which does not vote, the approval of the 
United States is necessary; and eke how it there- 
fore follows, as the night the day, that the one vote 
of the United States is as big as the six votes of 
the British Empire. 

" It is essentially absolutely true." 

How naturally it comes in 1920, from the author 
of the identical construction a quarter of a century 
ago: . . . "flat rebellion, little less." (Rebellion, 
yes, flat rebellion — at least, little less than flat re- 
bellion) ; . . . " in the very presence almost of the 
French themselves " (in the presence of the French, 
the French themselves, the very presence of the 
French themselves — that is, at least, in the very 
presence ALMOST of the French themselves) . " It 
is true — it is absolutely true — that is to say, it is 
essentially absolutely true. I must modify that 
statement a little, but essentially it is absolutely 
true." 

Is this crippling of the faculty of decision 

301 



THE STORY OF A STYLE 

the revenge of the unsatisfied inner conflict which 
during so many years has clamored for resolution, 
which has disturbed the soul and beleaguered the 
throne of reason, and which still pursues its object, 
as if endowed with a fatal necessity of self-fulfill- 
ment? 

Apart from the essay at argument recounted 
above, the President's protestations were to-day 
notably peevish: 

" I do not understand delays. / do not understand covert 
processes of opposition. . , . I do not wish to draw doubtful 
conclusions. / do not wish to do unjustice to the process of 
any honest mind. . . . I do not carry any purpose of my own 
to Paris. / did not carry any purpose that / did not know 
from the action of public opinion in the United States was the 
purpose of the United States. It was not the purpose of a 
party. It was not the purpose of any section of our fellow- 
citizens. It was a purpose, etc." 

" Do you think it unjust that there should be some oppor- 
tunity of debate given to that little country in the South, 
New Zealand ? Do you think it unjust that Australia should 
be allow to take part in the debate? Do you think it unjust 
that that little country in the south of Africa should be rep- 
resented? . . . Is not Canada a good neighbor? Is not 
Canada . . • 

He seemed to-day to be particularly beset by 
visions. What for several days he has been calling 

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THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS SPEECHES 

11 the dear ghosts " of the dead at Suresnes, emerged 
again from among " the serried ranks of the boys in 
khaki"; and an obsession of unhappy ideas, sym- 
bolized (as in Macbeth) by daggers, marked his ut- 
terances: 

" Hyphens are the knives that are being stuck in this docu- 
ment." 

" I want to say — I cannot say too often — any man who 
carries a hyphen about with him carries a dagger that he is 
ready to plunge into the vitals of this Republic." 

Following the speeches of September 25th, Mr. 
Wilson's fatigue became so pronounced that his phy- 
sician ortiered the tour abandoned. 

[The above sentence was written on September 
26th, and with it this story concludes.] 



303 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Oct. 2009 

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